


What Was Left on the Cutting Room Floor

by duchessofthemoonbase



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Actors, Classic Hollywood AU, F/M, Mutual Pining, damereyexchange, lowkey enemies to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23035189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duchessofthemoonbase/pseuds/duchessofthemoonbase
Summary: In 1925, Rey Skywalker and Poe Dameron were the most famous couple on the silent screen. But when sound film takes over, it throws their careers in opposite directions.Ten years later, they’re brought together to star in another film—and no one can predict how this movie will end.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Rey
Comments: 337
Kudos: 148





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lettersfromnowhere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersfromnowhere/gifts).



> A birthday present for lettersfromnowhere who set up the wonderful Damerey Exchange! Reminder that you can submit and fill requests here: https://damereyexchange.tumblr.com/

Rey straightened the lipsticks behind the glass display as she felt the old woman’s eyes study her. _Damn it,_ she thought, continuing to pretend she didn’t notice, _this is the third time today._

“Excuse me, miss?”

“Yes?” Rey responded, as if she actually thought the woman was going to ask her a question about what shade of rouge to buy.

“Are you Rey Skywalker?” the woman asked, her eyes full of wonder. Rey had learned the hard way that she couldn’t simply deny it anymore.

“Yes,” Rey said, trying to keep her composure. “Can I help you find something?”

“But why are you working at the Saks 5th Avenue makeup counter? Aren’t you a movie star?”

 _Christ,_ Rey thought, _usually they’re not so rude as to point it out like that._ “Well I’m not anymore. Can I help you find something?”

“I loved you in _Difficult Man._ That scene where you’re trying to cook dinner and then Poe Dameron comes in and you—”

“Yes,” Rey said, pretending to rearrange perfume bottles to mask her discomfort. “That’s a good one.”

“Are you two still sweethearts? All those movies you made together…”

“We were never sweethearts.”

“Oh, psh. I read the picture magazines back then just like everybody else. You were smitten with each other.”

Rey placed a bottle on the counter with a loud clang and tried not to lose her temper. “Those magazines just make things up to sell copies.” She took a deep breath. “Again, ma’am, can I help you find anything?”

The woman noticed the daggers hiding in her eyes; just above Rey’s customer service smile, and slowly backed away to look at a pile of sweaters.

Rey sighed as she rested her elbows on the counter, placing her head in her hands. It had been five years since the advent of the sound era had left her soft-spoken, stuttering self without a job, and five years since she fell from the glamour of Hollywood to the monotony of everyday survival here in New York City. She supposed she should consider herself lucky to have a job at all—the Depression was five years in, and she passed the lines of unemployed men every day. It could be worse.

The only problem was that it was impossible to move on. Not when people recognized her every day. The best of these strangers gave her pitying looks from afar. The worst asked her how she’d ended up here, as if they had any right to know.

The most awful asked her if she still saw Poe Dameron.

She saw him alright. It had been five years since that same sound transformation had catapulted Poe Dameron and his sonorous voice into superstardom. He was on posters on the wall by the movie theater, in the magazines laying on the counter, even on the radio. There was no way to avoid him.

But talk to him? That was another story.

“Are you sick, Ms. Skywalker?” asked Mrs. Holdo, her boss. She was a tall woman with hair dyed a daring shade of gray that verged on purple. “If you’re sick, go home. If not, stand up and make yourself presentable. There are plenty of women without your film-star attitude who would be grateful to have this job,” she scolded.

Mrs. Holdo left with a glare and a sharp click of her heels. Her boss wasn’t the only one who resented her because of her famous past. The other girls at the counter did too, once they found out she wasn’t good for getting them into parties or introducing them to film stars. Hollywood didn’t want her, but the rest of world didn’t either.

She was in limbo, alone.

***

Poe walked to Mr. Solo’s office, his back aching. He had spent the day shooting the last scenes for a war drama, _The Spark That Will Light the Fire,_ and all of these scenes involved lying down in a trench at a twisted angle while he gave cliched motivational speeches to his fellow soldiers. It was a bad movie, to be honest, and he was glad to have it over with.

The President of Corellia Studios, Han Solo, held meetings with the studio’s actors every once and awhile. Let them know how they were doing, whether they helped sales at the box office, what kind of projects they had lined up next. Poe knew he was doing well, but it didn’t make the prospect of the meeting any less terrifying.

“Dameron!” Mr. Solo said as he walked through the door. “It’s good to see ya, kid.”

“Good to see you too, Mr. Solo,” Poe said, shaking his hand.

Han turned around and fetched a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “So…we got a problem, Dameron.”

“What?”

“Not you, calm down. It’s that damn Shirley Temple.”

“Shirley Temple, sir?”

“Every time Fox puts out a movie with that curly-headed rugrat headlining it, whatever movie we have out flunks. We’re losing money.”

“I suppose we could get our own child star,” Poe suggested.

“No,” Mr. Solo said, taking a sip of whiskey. “We can’t fight with the same kind of weapon. That little girl is too powerful already. I’ve got my own idea of how to brighten people’s moods during these dark times.”

“Which is?”

“ _Romance_ , Dameron,” he said, grinning a little bit too wide. “We’re going to pile on the romance—with a little nostalgia for kicks. Sure, people love kids, but there wouldn’t be any kids without romance, eh?”

“Alright,” Poe said with a smile, relieved to do anything other than another war film. “That sounds like a good plan.”

“I’m not done yet.”

Poe stared at him expectantly.

“Take a sip of whiskey, Dameron. You’re going to want to brace yourself for this.”

***

By noon, another person in the store had clearly recognized Rey. This time it was a man with a beard wearing a nice suit. He wasn’t starstruck in the least, and didn’t spent any time hanging around pretending to shop. He walked straight up to the counter.

“Hello, Ms. Skywalker,” he said, shaking her hand respectfully. “I’m Snap Wexley, a representative of Corellia Studios. Han Solo is interested in signing you to another contract.”

Rey stared at the man with wide eyes, not quite processing what he was saying. “What? Mr. Solo fired me five years ago, in case you don’t remember. He was very clear about how unfit I was to work on sound films.”

“Well, that’s changed,” Mr. Wexley said. “And you’ll have a voice coach if you need one. With the proper training you’ll be ready in no time.”

Rey looked down at the contract Mr. Wexley slid across the counter—they were offering her an unbelievable sum of money to move back to Hollywood and star in a film. Rey narrowed her eyes at the stack of papers.

“What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch.”

Rey crossed her arms. “I don’t believe that. I’m worth nothing to Corellia Studios anymore. There’s thousands of well-trained actresses who would give their right arm for a part like this. I don’t understand.”

“You can talk it over with Mr. Solo when you get to California. He’s got big plans.” Mr. Wexley smiled and pushed the stack of papers even closer. “Take a few days to think about it and get back to me.”

Rey watched Mr. Wexley walk out the glass doors, her mind still catching up to the fact that she was actually getting a second chance. _She could get out of here._ Away from the prying customers, her aching feet, the ever-present glare of Mrs. Holdo. She could live modestly off the money from this one film for ten years if she wanted to. She could hang up her uniform, leave now, and never look back.

It didn’t even take Rey an hour to get out her pen.

***

Rey stumbled off the train with wobbly legs, happy to finally be under the California sunshine again. It took three days on the train and four Agatha Christie novels to get here, but she had finally made it.

It was almost like she had never left.

Rey had rented a small apartment that was walking distance from Corellia Studios. She’d go there and get settled in a bit, but Mr. Solo was insistent on seeing her the second she reached Los Angeles. As exhausted as she was from the trip, she was too curious to say no.

She examined herself in a window as she walked over to the studios. She was a mess. After years of having to look her best in Hollywood, she had gotten lazy in New York, reverting back to the tomboy styles of her childhood. She had run out of money for nice clothes, too. She wore a simple brown dress from the Sears catalog along with a green hat to hide the state of her hair after sleeping on the train. She took out a compact and applied lipstick and rouge before going in—she didn’t know what she would do if Mr. Solo saw her and decided he’d made a mistake.

But the one thing she still couldn’t wrap her head around was the reason she had been called back. She was a product of a bygone era, even though that era was barely five years ago. The whole thing still felt like an elaborate joke that she wasn’t in on. _Why me?_ She kept thinking as she told the secretary she had arrived. _Hollywood is not a place for second chances…_

Rey had barely sat down to wait when Han Solo came barreling through the room.

“Rey Skywalker!” He said, ever his grumpy yet charming self. “Long time no see!”

She stood up and shook his hand politely. She would be lying if she said she didn’t resent Mr. Solo a little bit for firing her five years ago, but as time went on she realized that he probably didn’t have a choice. No studio president could survive making decisions on sentiment alone.

Rey wrung her hands nervously—she couldn’t stand not knowing anymore. “Mr. Solo, if you don’t mind me asking…why am I back? I wouldn’t think I’m exactly the box office draw I used to be.”

Mr. Solo laughed, leading her down a hallway. “By yourself? Yeah, not really. But as part of an iconic duo that will have people buying up tickets for nostalgia’s sake? That’s another story.”

Rey felt her palms go sweaty. “Um…what do you mean?”

“Oh kid,” Mr. Solo said, sighing as he cracked open the door to his office. “There’s a reason I didn’t mention this in the contract…”

And then she found herself standing across from Poe Dameron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey’s story of being a silent film star working at a makeup counter is based off of the experiences of Louise Brooks: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Louise_Brooks


	2. Chapter 2

“Poe.”

“Hi,” he responded, sitting tense in his chair. “I’m guessing Han didn’t tell you.”

“No,” Rey said, narrowing her eyes at Han. “ _No_ , he didn’t.”

It suddenly felt like all her inner organs were rearranging themselves inside her—a week ago, she had been in New York, bored out of her mind; and now she was in Hollywood, Poe Dameron sitting next to her as if no time had passed at all. She felt the urge to stare at him, to take in his presence after all of these years, but she refused, her sense of pride keeping her eyes fixed firmly on Mr. Solo.

“Look, Rey, I’m sorry,” Han said. “But we both know you would have never touched that contract if you knew who your costar was. Luckily for me, Mr. Dameron is still under contract and has to do whatever movies I tell him to do.”

“It’s fine,” Poe said, leaning back in his chair. “We’re both professionals. There won’t be any issues here.”

“Of course not,” Rey said. She turned to glance at him, watching him casually sip his whiskey, almost looking bored, and felt a long-buried fury resurface. _How dare you act like seeing me isn’t tearing you apart. How dare you say it’ll be fine. How dare you pretend that there’s never been anything between us._

Han sighed and took out a stack of papers. “I hope you kids are right. I can’t claim to have been in on all the gossip back then, but I know you two aren’t exactly holding hands and skipping through fields of daisies anymore.” He pointed a sharp finger at them. “But from now on, you better as hell act like it.”

“We’re actors,” Rey said, crossing her arms. “That’s what you’re paying us to do.”

Han looked down nervously and sighed, probably wondering if he had just made a huge mistake. “Well alright then,” he said. “Let me tell you about the film.”

“It’s a period piece,” Han said. “It’s called _I Will Not Reject My Love._ It’s an epic forbidden romance. Poe, you’ll play the Duke of Yavin, who falls in love with one of his housemaids, a girl named Hannah—that’s you, Rey. We’re still casting the other parts.”

Rey shifted in her chair. _A romance—with Poe._

“Who’s directing?” Poe asked.

“Leia Organa,” Han said. “You haven’t worked with her, Poe, but I believe Ms. Skywalker has, right?”

“Yes,” she said. “She directed me in _The Scavenger_ in 1927—she’s brilliant.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Han said with a sad smile. It was common knowledge in Hollywood that Han Solo and Leia Organa had been in an on-again, off-again relationship for as long as anyone could remember. They had a son about Rey’s age, Ben, who was rumored to be working in the criminal underworld. Apparently these revelations had torn Han and Leia apart irreparably.

“It’s going to be the biggest film of 1935,” Han said. “I’m going to make sure of it. And just so you know, Ms. Skywalker, since you’ve been away from Hollywood these things have gotten much bigger—it’s not just about working on the film anymore. There’s going to be a lot of publicity to be done. Poe, you’ve worked with Finn Calrissian before, so you know his approach.”

“Lots of photoshoots?” Poe said resignedly.

“Yes,” Han said. “So you better get your beauty sleep, Dameron.”

***

**_1925_ **

_Had the world ever been so alive?_

_Rey walked onto set like she was walking on air. She was eighteen, freshly immigrated to America from a life of waiting tables at her mean grandfather’s pub in England. Within the past year, Rey had gone from small background parts to the status of a leading lady. Her grandfather had told her she was a fool with her head in the clouds, but she had just beat out Mary Pickford for the lead role in this film, so maybe she wasn’t so crazy after all._

_It was her first day of filming for_ Difficult Man, _a comedy film about a couple of young sweethearts who were constantly getting into trouble—well, the man was always getting into trouble; and his girl was always trying to get him out of it. Her costar was Poe Dameron—she’d never worked with him before, or even seen one of his movies—he was supposedly as fresh to the business as she was, after all. She hoped he would be nice._

_Rey sat down in the makeup chair, still half asleep as powder was brushed onto her face. She almost didn’t notice the presence of someone standing next to her. She looked up to see a handsome young man who could only be Poe Dameron himself. He was waiting nervously to make his introduction, and Rey smiled at him as the makeup artist opened a tin of mascara._

_“I’m Poe,” he said, extending his hand._

_“Rey.”_

_“I know,” he said, smiling._

_“You do?”_

_“Of course,” he said. “I saw you in_ One Quarter Portion _last year. It was an amazing performance. More nuanced and complex than most of the stuff you see these days.”_

_Rey laughed with embarrassment. “I was hardly in that film.”_

_“You stood out to me,” Poe Dameron said, smiling in earnest. With any other man in this business, Rey would have presumed he was flirting with her—but Poe’s admiration seemed genuine. He was extraordinarily handsome, with curling black hair and warm brown eyes, and Rey found it hard to look away from him._

_She instantly felt a warm comfort at his introduction—there was nothing worse than having a costar you didn’t like, and she had a feeling that she and Poe were going to get along just fine. “Are you excited to start filming?” Rey asked. “It’s the first leading role for you too, yes?”_

_“Yes,” Poe confirmed, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was nervous.”_

_“We’ll be fine,” Rey said, giving his hand a quick squeeze as she walked with him to the dining room set they had built. “We’ll get through it together.”_

_Rey had read over this first scene and planned out her motions until they were second-nature to her—she was terrified of messing up on the first day of her first big movie, and she wanted to make sure she got it exactly right. The first scene of the movie involved Rey’s character cooking a fancy meal to surprise her sweetheart before he came home from work. She’s about halfway through setting the plates out when Poe’s character comes in with about twenty of his closest friends, all boisterous and hungry and ready for a meal._

_Rey brushes the flour off her apron and sighs, watching as the group of ruffians tear into the feast that she labored all day over. She rolls her eyes melodramatically and is about to explode with anger when Poe walks into the kitchen; a massive bouquet of roses in his hands._

_He pulls Rey into his arms and kisses her gently on the cheek, looking at her adoringly. Rey gazes back, and finds she doesn’t have to act as much as she had originally planned. It’s easy to get lost in Poe Dameron’s eyes, to forget and forgive all the trouble he’s caused, all the ruckus in the dining room outside. Rey feels a lurch in her stomach as he pulls her close, and she gets the impression that she could forgive him for anything, no matter how difficult._

***

Rey’s hands are sweaty as she fidgets in her chair, waiting as Han finishes telling them the details for the film.

“We start shooting next week,” Han said. “Rey, you’ll start training with your speech and dialogue coach, Obi-Wan Kenobi, as soon as possible. All understood?”

They both nodded, getting up to leave.

“Hey, no long faces, kids,” Han said. “At the end of the day it’s just a movie, all right?”

Rey smiled at him weakly as they walked out. Poe shut the office door behind them, and then they were standing outside in the hallway, completely alone.

“Hey,” Poe said, looking down at the floor. “I’m really sorry you, um…got pushed into this without knowing all the details. If I had known Han was pulling something like that I never would have allowed it.”

“I know,” Rey said, giving him a perfunctory smile.

“So you’ve been in New York? How, um—how have you been?”

Rey scoffed. “How do you think?”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Not all of us can run around Hollywood without a care in the world. It hasn’t been easy for me, if you really care enough to know,” Rey snapped.

Something in Poe’s eyes hardened, and he looked hurt. “You made your choice. It didn’t have to be this way.”

“How _dare_ you say it like that. Like I had a choice.”

“I’m just saying,” Poe said, “I’m not the one who left.”

Rey tried to push down the lump in her throat that formed every time she met his eyes. He was still so handsome—at thirty-five he already had streaks of gray at his temples, and had grown out of the remnants of his younger face from the silent era—he now had a more mature and commanding presence, and even now she had to admit it was alluring.

But God, it was so hard to look directly at him—for their eyes to meet and for that live wire to spark to life again. All those memories, that long, complicated story that had weighed so heavily on her heart all these years—he was the only other person who knew every line of it along with her, and now he was here again; clearing the dust off of everything she’d been forced to bury away to survive.

“It’s a job,” Poe said. “We’ll get through it, okay?”

“Okay,” Rey said. But if today’s meeting was any indication, she knew neither of them could be sure.


	3. Chapter 3

Rey got out of bed, stretching out and gazing at the emptiness of her new apartment. She hadn’t brought many of her belongings with her, and the place looked as stark as a hotel room. She hoped it wouldn’t offend the speech and dialogue coach, Mr. Kenobi, who would be arriving in half an hour. He was a distinguished stage actor who had been working since far before Rey was born, and she hoped he would be okay with tea from the drugstore and a couple of rickety chairs.

The conversation with Poe still weighed heavily on her mind, though not in any particularly good or bad way—she just felt strangely intoxicated by the fact that he was in her life again. She didn’t know if it was a pleasant tipsy feeling or an sad drunken stupor; but things certainly felt more vivid to her than they had in a long, long time.

It was simply the novelty of him after so long, of course. She had grown past the infatuation with Poe Dameron that had so vividly colored her younger days, after all. If the magazines told any truth, he was a careless scoundrel who thought far too highly of himself—not the sort of man any grown woman with sense would find herself involved with.

There was a knock on the door, and Rey answered it to find an old man standing at the door—Obi-Wan Kenobi. He had a white beard, wore old tweeds, and had the look of a kindly, grandfatherly professor.

“Mr. Kenobi,” Rey said. “Welcome—it’s an honor to meet you. Excuse the state of my apartment; I’ve just moved in.”

The old man just chuckled. “I’ll always forgive a fellow Brit, you know. We were forged in _real_ weather. Real winters, real rains. The people here wouldn’t know a winter chill if it hit them right between the eyes.”

Rey laughed and showed him to one of the old chairs, pouring him a cup of tea.

“So you’re moving from silents to talkies, I hear?”

“Yes,” Rey said. “I did movies in late twenties, but then um…”

“No need to feel awkward,” Obi-Wan said. “You’re not the only one who got thrown aside when the talkies came in. And that Han Solo is ruthless when he needs to be—a good man, but he’s above sentimentality. And if you don’t mind me saying, dear, your voice sounds just fine to me.”

Rey shrugged. “Han told me I was too quiet—I didn’t annunciate, didn’t put the correct emotion in. Rushed through all the speeches they gave me out of pure nerves, I guess.”

“Well that’s something we can work on,” Obi-Wan said. “Now tell me about the role and the film you’re preparing for.”

“It’s called _I Will Not Reject My Love,_ ” Rey said. “I’m playing a housemaid named Hannah.”

“And what’s the story?”

“She falls in love with a Duke.”

“And who’s your co-star?”

Rey swallowed her tea and looked down. “Poe Dameron.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Well that’s very good! I saw some of your films with him back in the day. It’s always easier to work with a friend—although, if I remember the gossip correctly, you two were a little more than that, no?”

Rey’s voice caught in her throat. “Well, um—”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said. “I see. You’ve been in New York for five years. Well that complicates things.”

Rey stirred her tea in silence, and Obi-Wan sensed that she didn’t want to talk about it any longer.

“Well then,” he said, giving her a kindly smile. “Why don’t we get out that script and get to work. You start shooting tomorrow, after all!”

***

**_1925_ **

_“See!?” Poe was saying, his hand on her hip as he pranced with her across the floor. “You’re a natural, sunshine.”_

_Rey laughed as he spun her around, her cotton skirt twirling. They were in rehearsals for a country dance scene in_ Difficult Man, _and she was finding that this American square dancing was far harder than it looked._

_They switched partners, and Rey found herself in the arms of one of the extras, a man who seemed a bit too starstruck in her presence to make her comfortable. Poe was watching her as their lines drew apart, as if he was calculating when they’d be partnered together again._

_They had been shooting this film for two weeks, and in that time he had already endeared himself to her, calling her ‘sunshine’ and telling her stories while they waited on set. They always did the crossword puzzle together while they sat in makeup in the mornings, and he would sometimes do the most grave of Shakespeare’s soliloquies in cartoon voices to make her laugh at the end of a long day of shooting. He was a truly kind man, and Rey couldn’t say that of everyone she had met here in Hollywood._

_“That’s enough for today,” the director called out. “We’ll shoot on Monday. Go home and enjoy your weekend.”_

_Rey sighed, exhausted from the dancing, and saw Poe approach her with an eager smile._

_“Any plans tonight, Ms. Skywalker?”_

_“Laundry, if that counts for anything,” she joked._

_Poe leaned in a little closer. “Can it wait a day? I…um, I’d love to take you out on the town tonight—if you’d like that.”_

_Rey beamed. “I would.” She bit her lip nervously. “I, er—I don’t have anything to wear though.”_

_Poe raised his eyebrows. “I can fix that.”_

_He held out his hand and led her through the small hallways of the studio until they reached a closet labeled “WARDROBE” towards the back._

_“No,” Rey protested. “The is definitely not allowed.”_

_“Come on,” Poe said. “Just a peek.”_

_They opened the door and found rows upon rows of hangers displaying everything from clown suits to ballgowns. “I really can’t,” Rey said. “Besides, everything here is kind of—ridiculous.”_

_Poe pulled out a dress and handed it to her. “This isn’t.”_

_Rey gasped. The dress was a dark grayish green, made of satin with velvet and pearl accents down the front. “Oh…”_

_“They won’t even notice it’s gone,” Poe said, winking._

_“Oh my god,” Rey said, looking at the piece of paper pinned on it. “Clara Bow is supposed to wear this in a film next week! Clara Bow!”_

_Poe shrugged. “You’d wear it better.”_

_Rey smiled, and there was nothing left to argue._

***

_What a night that was._

_She had felt bad for borrowing the dress, but when she saw the look on Poe’s face when she walked out in it, the soft, forest-green fabric hugging her curves, she knew it was worth it. For the first time in her life, she actually felt like the movie star she was._

_Rey had never been to a speakeasy before, but Poe took her to his favorite one; tucked in the basement of a library of all places, a tiny room packed with couples swaying to the music and sipping on cocktails._

_“Dance with me, sunshine,” Poe said after they had finished their drinks. The room was warm and heady with the sound of laughter and the slow music of the band, and it almost felt like time was slowing down just for them._

_Rey put her arms around Poe’s shoulders, and he rested his hands on her hips, leading her back and forth across the room. The band played slow, sensual jazz that along with the cocktail lulled Rey into what felt like a dream. As the night wore on they drew closer and closer together, their hands wandering, Poe’s fingers drawing lingering circles on her hips while Rey’s sank into his hair._

_In a moment of daring, Poe dipped her slowly; Rey relaxed into his arms, leaning her neck back as he held her waist firmly in his hands. As she looked up, their eyes met in an instantaneous, brilliant understanding, and neither of them dared to look away from each other._

_Something was starting here. Something real._

_They kept dancing, drawing each other closer, neither of them daring to interrupt the magic._

_“Should one of us say something?” Poe asked._

_“Say what?”_

_“Oh, you know,” Poe said. “Break the spell. Say it out loud. Make a plan. That sort of thing.”_

_“I sort of like the silence,” Rey said, burrowing her head against his chest. “I can imagine you’re thinking anything I want to hear that way…”_

_“And what sort of things do you dream of me thinking, Rey Skywalker?” Poe asked, a glint of mischief in his eyes._

_“I dream of you wanting to kiss me,” Rey whispered, smiling up at him._

_“I’d like to do a lot more than simply_ _dream_ _of kissing you, my dear.” Poe admitted, and Rey felt her heart soar._

_“Would you now?” Rey said with a smirk, and Poe kissed it right off her lips._

***

“So, what do you think?” asked Rose, their costume designer, as Rey turned around in the mirror. “We’ll have to let out the hem a little, but otherwise it’s perfect.”

“What time period is this film supposed to be set in, anyway?”

Rose laughed. “It’s not even in the script. No one really knows. Somewhere between the late 18th century and the early twentieth, I would reckon.”

Rey scrunched up her face. “How can they just not _know?”_

Rose rolled her eyes. “Hey, at least you didn’t have to design costumes for it.”

Rey sighed as she examined herself in the mirror. She was wearing a maid’s uniform, which consisted of a basic black dress and a frilly white apron. Later, her hair would be put up into a practical bun. As period pieces went, it wasn’t the most exciting costume, but at least it was more comfortable than the elaborate gowns some of her costars would have to wear, massive things that looked like they came straight off Marie Antoinette.

“Who’s wearing that torture device?” Rey asked, pointing to one of the gowns. “That looks like it takes eight hours just to get into.”

“Zorii Bliss,” Rose said. “They’ve just cast her as Lady Cornelia.”

“Ah,” Rey said. Lady Cornelia was the character that the Duke was expected to marry to save his family fortune, a rich and aristocratic woman who would serve as Hannah the housemaid’s rival for the Duke’s affections. Zorii was already a big name in Europe, but had only done a few films here in the United States—and from what Rey had heard, she was exotic, glamorous, and not to messed with.

“Ah,” Rose whispered as Rey transitioned into the chair for hair and makeup. “Speak of the devil.”

Rey smelled Zorii before she saw her—she wore a heavy perfume of roses and violets that felt overwhelming even before she walked in a few moments later, already looking resplendent in a gold dress, a mink fur, and dark lipstick.

“Good morning,” Zorii said in an European accent that Rey still couldn’t put her finger on. “You must be the wonderful Rey Skywalker. And Rose Tico, the costumer.”

“Yes,” Rey said, as Zorii shook hands with both of them. She wore her brown hair in a sophisticated bob, and her eyes had a sharp, knowing quality to them that was both intimidating and beguiling. “Rose was just showing me your costume,” Rey said.

“Ah, yes,” Zorii said, running her hands across the bodice. “Leia Organa warned me I’d be in some troublesome gowns for this. But I’m sure it’ll look beautiful, no?”

“Absolutely,” Rey said, already feeling small in her presence. “Rose is a genius with fabric.”

“Do we have any scenes together, Rey? I have to admit I haven’t looked over the script too carefully yet.”

“Only a couple, I think,” Rey answered. “You’re mostly upstairs and I’m mostly down.”

“What a pity,” Zorii said, straightening her hair in the mirror. “I’ve wanted to work with you ever since I saw _Difficult Man._ Poe as well. I saw that film long before I was in the business—getting to film scenes with the both of you is going to feel like an absolute dream.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” Rey said, wincing as her hair was pulled back into a tight bun and rouge applied to her cheeks.

“Ms. Skywalker?” asked a crew member, walking in and cutting off their conversation. “Ms. Organa is ready for you on set.”

“Brilliant,” Rey said, letting the makeup artist do one last touch-up and getting out of the chair. She waved goodbye to Rose and Zorii and made her way across the building, her heart speeding up in her chest.

 _I haven’t acted in five years,_ Rey kept thinking, wringing her hands together as she walked. _And never like this—never with words. What if I disappoint Leia Organa? What if she fires me on the spot when I flub a line? What if this whole move back to California was a big mistake?_

Rey walked in to see a freshly built set of the downstairs kitchen. Extras stood around in similar maid’s and footmen’s uniforms, while food and props were being carefully arranged to create the allusion of a busy kitchen in the middle of the day. Mary Mothma, an established stage actress from the 1910s, was standing primly at the edge of the room—she would be playing the head housekeeper. This was one of the first scenes of the film, where Hannah shows up at the house and is hired as a housemaid, only to be overwhelmed by chaos and commotion as she joins her fellow workers downstairs.

“Rey!” Leia exclaimed, running over and pulling her in for a hug. Rey hadn’t seen the famous director since they wrapped _The Scavenger_ together in 1927, and she couldn’t be more glad to see her again. Leia was the kind of mother figure Rey thought every girl needed—kind when you wanted, and absolutely fearless when you needed her to be. Hollywood was full of big personalities, but none of them shone as brilliantly to Rey as Leia Organa.

“How are you, my dear,” Leia said, examining her in her maid’s uniform. “You’ve grown up, haven’t you!”

“Didn’t really have a choice,” Rey joked, and Leia laughed.

“Are you nervous?”

Rey felt her confidence shrivel up in an instant. “Can you tell?”

“Not in the least,” Leia said, winking. “You’re an _actress,_ my dear. You were born to do this. So what if it’s a little different than before? Obi-Wan told me you’ve been reading your lines beautifully. I have complete faith in you, Rey Skywalker.”

Rey smiled and adjusted her apron. “I suppose we better get started.”

“That’s my girl!”

Rey walked into the kitchen set and introduced herself to the other actors, running her lines over in her head as the lighting and cameras were adjusted. _You’re a nervous housemaid,_ Rey reminded herself. _You’re not supposed to look especially confident and dazzling in this scene anyway. It’ll be fine._

“Action!” Leia yelled, and Rey watched as Mary Mothma approached her, looking imposing and all-knowing with her tight updo and the chain of keys hanging at her waist.

“So you’re Hannah, are you?” she asked, looking unamused. “Very well. You can take the last room here on the left. There’s a lot of work to be done in this household, and I will not tolerate _any_ laziness—do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Rey said, giving a small curtsey as two other housemaids laughed at her from the corner. _Two words down,_ Rey thought. _And so many, many more to go._

“In case you didn’t know,” the housekeeper lectured. “This house consists of the new Duke of Yavin and his Dowager mother. The elder Duke passed away a couple of years past. You are not to interact with the Duke or the Dowager in regard to anything more interesting than cleaning. I will not tolerate anyone getting above their station here. Now—where do you come from, girl?”

Rey took a deep breath— _this is it._ “I’m from Dover, ma’am. My father is a farmer and my mother takes care of all my little brothers and sisters—we have a nice farm but since the crops were so bad this past year, and now that I’m grown, Father thought I could put myself to use and—”

“Very well Hannah,” the housekeeper said with a sigh. “Don’t get into any trouble, and you’ll get along just fine.”

“Cut!” Leia yelled, and Rey sank back with a sigh of relief. She had finished her first sound scene. She did it. She could _do_ this.

They rearranged themselves for the next scene, where one of the other housemaids tells Hannah all of the gossip going on in the house. Rey listened and responded, the lines flowing off her lips as naturally as if she were speaking to an old friend. She felt herself sink into the role, her voice picking up on all the right intonations of the emotions, just as she had practiced with Obi-Wan. It was _thrilling._ When she heard the sound of the final clapboard a few hours later, she couldn’t been more exhausted or overjoyed.

It was as if she had only just remembered—she was an _actress._ This is what made her feel alive.

She would go home today with renewed spirits and a feeling of hard work well done. She could finally change out of this maid’s uniform and go home and—

“Rey?” Leia asked. “Come here.”

Rey walked back onto set to see Leia standing next to a dark-skinned man with a friendly smile and a camera. “I’d like you to meet Finn Calrissian—he’s our publicist and photographer. I’m afraid your workday isn’t quite over yet.”

“No problem,” Rey said. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Finn said, shaking her hand. There was something kind and honest about him that was rare in this industry, and Rey instantly trusted him. “We have to take some publicity photos while you’re still in costume,” he added.

“Great,” Rey said, and followed Finn to another room across the building. Finn was flipping through a notebook of sketches as they walked.

“Those are amazing,” Rey asked, looking over his shoulder. The drawings were of the same couple over and over, holding each other in the kind of passionate embraces you usually saw on romance novel covers. They were grasping at each other desperately, their eyes heavy with desire and longing. “What are they for?”

Finn laughed. “They’re the poses for the photoshoot we’re about to do, of course.”

“Oh,” she said. “I—I thought it was just going to be—”

Finn laughed. “Of course not. Poe’s already here.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Archive Warning applies for Poe dressed like Captain Wentworth: you’ve been warned.
> 
> (and for fade-to-black implied sexytimes, in true 1930s fashion)

He looked like he had stepped out of another time.

Poe was standing in the center of the room in front of a painted backdrop of a sunset. He wore an old fashioned military uniform: a deep blue, perfectly tailored jacket with gold embellishments on the shoulders, along with a pair of white breeches and tall, black boots.

“Hi,” Poe said, suddenly looking down at the floor.Rey stood next to him, her hands stuffed nervously into her apron pockets.

“Hey, look,” he whispered as Finn set up the camera. “I’m sorry about how we left things the other day. I didn’t mean to lash out at you like that. I think the shock of seeing you again just sort of…um...”

“It’s okay,” Rey said, still refusing to turn her face toward him. “I’m sorry, too.”

Finn flipped through the pages in the sketchbook, deciding which one to shoot first. “Alright,” he said, walking over. “First pose is just you standing with your backs to each other, looking off into the distance.”

“Easy enough,” Poe said.

Finn adjusted them to where he wanted them to stand and went back to his camera, a worried frown beginning to creep in. Rey figured he must have realized something was off between his two photographic models.

The camera flashed as Rey stood proudly, turning away from Poe as she pretended to stare off into the distance at something more majestic than the filing cabinets in the corner.

“Excellent,” Finn said. “Now we need _this_.” He pointed at a picture of the Duke holding Hannah by her tiny waist, her neck craned back dramatically as her fingers reached up to touch the Duke’s cheek. They both visibly tensed.

“Uh, alright,” Poe said, taking a deep breath as they each took a small step towards each other. Both of them had too much pride to move first, and Finn stood waiting.

“Do you want me to show you the sketch again?” Finn asked.

“No, no, I got it,” Poe said, and quickly moved his hands forward, clutching Rey’s waist at a distance like an awkward teenage boy at a dance. Finn looked at them expectantly.

“Oh,” Rey said. “Um, here.” She reached up and touched Poe’s cheek, the familiar sensation of his stubble against her hand shocking her system like an electric jolt.

“You’re getting there, almost,” Finn said, being far more patient than either of them deserved. “Lean back in his arms, Rey, and then look into each other’s eyes. Really play up the romance, yeah?”

Rey felt her cheeks burn as Poe clutched her waist tighter. Then she leaned back, her neck arching gracefully. At the same time, their eyes met, and Rey felt her breath catch in her throat. It had been so long since she’d looked into the kindness of those warm brown eyes, felt the intoxicating rush of Poe’s gaze upon her, taking her in…

“Yes! That’s it!” Finn said, breaking their trance. “Perfect. Just hold that for a few more seconds.”

Rey tried to remain her composure.

It was easier said than done.

***

**_1927_ **

_Poe was a reckless driver._

_He loved his Ford almost as much as he loved Rey. He loved driving it at unholy and probably illegal speeds. Most women would have minded, would have shrieked at some of his more dubious maneuvers, but not her. Rey loved the thrill of it just as much as he did._

_It was the beginning of autumn, and Rey had just finished shooting_ The Scavenger _with Leia Organa; while Poe had just wrapped on_ One Hell of a Pilot!. _They both had a few weeks of time off, and so Rey had the idea of a road trip—the two of them driving down the newly-constructed Route 66, going east and seeing where the road took them until their time or money ran out and they had to come back to Hollywood._

_It was their second day on the road. Road trips were usually miserable affairs, but with Poe, it seemed to Rey like the endless hours were nothing at all. They had just finished a late supper in a diner, both of them signing autographs for the patrons. They were both well past the point of becoming household names, and it looked like things were only going to go up from here._

_They left the diner hand in hand, walking outside into the desert—still hot even though the sun was long gone, a vast array of stars taking its place._

_“The waiter said there’s no hotel we can reach in time,” Poe lamented. “I don’t know what we’re going to do. I can order another cup of coffee and keep driving while you sleep.” Last night, they had bought rather nice separate rooms at a little motel in Arizona._

_“Or we can park somewhere and sleep in the car,” Rey suggested. “We have blankets, remember? No one should bother us.”_

_“I know,” Poe said. “I just don’t want you to be put into an unladylike position, I suppose.”_

_“If you’re still maintaining a suspicion that I’m at all ladylike, you don’t know me at all, Dameron.”_

_He laughed as they got back into the Ford, driving on a few miles until they parked in an empty clearing about a mile away from the highway. They settled into the back of the car, cuddled up in blankets, staring up at the Milky Way through the windows._

_“I love this,” Poe said, holding Rey tighter. “Just you and me and the stars, no one else to bother us. I don’t think it could get any more perfect.”_

_“Oh, darling,” Rey said. “These past two years have been the happiest I’ve ever known. I want it to be like this—always.”_

_“Then it will be,” Poe said, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “Sunshine, I don’t know if it’s even wise to tell you this, but one day, if you’ll let me, I’d like to marry you.”_

_“Really?” Rey asked, tears welling in her eyes._

_“Of course, darling. We’ll get a little mom-and-pop diner just like the one we ate supper at, and grow old together, and it’ll be wonderful.”_

_“Oh, Poe,” Rey gasped. “I love you so much.”_

_“Oh, dearest,” Poe whispered, running his fingers through her hair. “You don’t know how much I love hearing you say that.”_

_Rey kissed him, the two of them sighing as layers of clothing were pulled away and thrown aside, the car windows steaming up as the two of them grew closer than ever before._

_“I want you,” Rey sighed, touching his cheek tenderly. “I want this, with you, Poe, always, if you want it.”_

_“Oh, sweetheart,” Poe nearly moaned, grasping his hands around her waist. “You know I’ll never deny you anything.”_

_Rey smiled in delight, her neck arching back in pleasure, so she saw nothing but stars sparkling down at them from out the window, the desert stretching on forever, so many miles away from anything that could ever tear them apart._

***

“And….there. That should be good,” Finn said. Rey relaxed, straightening up and pulling her hand away from Poe as he let go of her waist.

“Is that it?” Rey asked, desperate to go home so she could be alone.

“One more, sorry,” Finn said. “I know it’s late.” He flipped through the sketchbook until he got to the final page. It was a sketch of the Duke and Hannah with their arms wrapped tightly around oneanother; they were looking at each other fervently, their lips mere centimeters away from a kiss.

“This is the one we’re thinking about using for the poster,” Finn explained. “I take photos of the actors and then our artist draws the picture. Poe, you know the drill.”

“Yeah,” Poe said, coughing as he straightened his uniform. “Um,” he said, approaching Rey. “Let’s just…”

“Of course,” Rey said, and took another step towards him. “I’ll just…uh—”

Rey wrapped her arms around him as stoically as she could manage, and then Poe followed, pulling her closer. They avoided each other’s eyes until Finn looked over, ready with another instruction.

“Alright, getting there,” Finn said. “I need you to look into each other’s eyes, and your lips need to be as close together as possible without touching, okay? A dramatic pause before a kiss.”

“Very well,” Rey said, and tilted her head up, Poe leaning down slightly to follow her movement.

Their eyes met as Finn circled around them with the camera, capturing as many angles as he could. Rey felt her heart speed up as her eyes flashed down to Poe’s lips, so close to her own after so many years, after so many of those dreams waking her in the night; the ones of red carpets and nightclubs and the first time Poe made love to her, the desert sky stretching on forever. The memories of all the many times he had kissed her, in between takes and on dates in Los Angeles, and _oh my word,_ his lips were so close, so close it would seem insane for them not to kiss at this point, he was pulling her in like a magnet, and even after everything that had happened, the fires that had raged across the landscape of everything they’d built together, in that moment, Rey found herself wishing— _kiss me, please, kiss me Poe, I miss you, I sometimes think I never stopped lo—_

“That’s all I need,” Finn said, and Rey felt herself catching her breath as she and Poe let go of each other, both of them suddenly going limp as they turned back in opposite directions, their faces flushed. Poe immediately grabbed his jacket.

“Great, thanks,” Poe said, walking up to Finn and shaking his hand without turning around to even look at Rey. Not a single acknowledgement. He walked out the door and was gone.

“I’m sorry about him,” Finn said. “He’s not usually like this.”

“Yes,” Rey said. “I know. Thank you, Mr. Calrissian.” She shook Finn’s hand, attempting a smile as she walked out through the other doorway, her heart rate finally slowing as she found herself alone in the hallway.

 _He’s an arrogant bastard,_ Rey thought, leaning up against the wall. _He’s a stubborn, difficult man with insane ideas and you learned this the hard way. That’s why you left, remember?_

She ran her fingers over her waist, where Poe’s hands had been. His touch still seemed to linger, burning her, through layers of clothes, skin, bone—something even deeper—

“No,” Rey whispered aloud to herself. She would shoot one movie, collect her paycheck, and go back to New York. That was it.

And then she would never see Poe Dameron again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday to lettersfromnowhere!!! I hope you have an awesome day :) <3
> 
> Many thanks to GothamOracle for helping me with the plot!!!

Rey stumbled into the studio, half-awake as she waved hello to Leia, who was ready to go and reviewing notes in her director’s chair.

“You don’t look like you slept a wink,” she said, examining the circles under Rey’s eyes. “Stay up late dancing?”

“No ma’am,” Rey said, giving her a weak smile. She had spent the night tossing and turning at the prospect of coming in today; the lines of the script running through her head until the cadence of the words had become almost nauseating to her.

After all, today was the day that Hannah was scheduled to meet the love of her life...

...which meant Rey having to see someone who she once believed was hers.

Rey slumped into the makeup chair, relieved at the prospect of having someone handle her like a puppet for a while. She closed her eyes as powder was applied to her face, jumping to a start as she heard someone sit down in the chair next to her.

Poe.

“Morning,” he said, and Rey nodded at him politely.

How many months had they spent sitting next to each other in makeup when they were young? Goofing off and practicing lines? Always doing the crossword together in the morning, Poe sneaking in one last kiss before she had her lipstick put on…all these moments, hanging between them like a threat, a blade about to fall—

“Are you ready for the scene today?” Rey asked, cutting through the silence.

“Yeah,” Poe said. “I think so.”

“Too bad we don’t have a crossword to work on,” Rey added.

Poe winced and looked away from her. “I really wish you hadn’t said that.”

“Why?”

Poe gripped the arm of his chair. “You _know_ why, Rey. And I don’t…I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want to think about it, I just…I don’t, okay?”

“Okay,” Rey said, turning away from him. “Sorry.”

There was a heavy silence, and Rey tried to regain her composure as her hair was taken out of her rollers.

“No, I’m sorry,” Poe said. “I shouldn’t have snapped. And I hope you know I always want you to be happy, and safe, and okay. But…I can’t. I can’t predict what would happen if I opened that part of myself up again.” He was still looking away from her.

“I understand,” Rey said, and she did. She really did.

***

Rey was kneeling in front of a fireplace, her knees already aching as Leia began to yell out instructions. They were on the set constructed to be the Duke of Yavin’s bedchambers. It was a lush room, with brocade wallpaper and a four-poster bed in the center. The tables were adorned with vases, statues, and butterflies trapped under glass domes; their wings frozen for the Duke’s careful inspection. Poe was standing near the entrance to the set, looking regal in his uniform and boots.

“Now Poe,” Leia was explaining. “You’re walking into your bedroom, completely unaware of your surroundings when—”

“Leia!”

The director audibly groaned as Han came barreling onto set, a cigar shaking between his fingers. He looked upset.

“Is there a problem?” she asked.

“Can we uh…can we talk for second?”

“ _No,_ Han, can’t you see I’m—”

“It’s about—um—”

Terror dawned in Leia’s eyes. “Okay then,” she said, following him away from set. She looked toward the actors and crew. “Give me two minutes.”

There was an awkward hush over the room as Leia left, and Rey overheard two of the cameramen trading whispers.

“A lover’s tryst?”

“Nah, it’s about their son.”

“Ben? He used to work for that English crime boss. The old guy.”

Rey’s stomach lurched, and she felt herself breaking out into a nervous sweat. _Please change the subject. I can’t hear this right now. Not grandfather._

“Yeah. Ben’s goddamn insane. Now he’s some sort of super criminal—wanted in every state, I even heard—”

“Hey!” Poe snapped, turning towards them. “Have some respect for Leia, okay?”

The cameramen rolled their eyes at Poe, thinking he was playing director’s pet, but Rey knew otherwise. The man had a sense of loyalty that ran so deep it could sometimes backfire—and it wasn’t just about Leia—Poe also knew that any mention of her nefarious grandfather could send Rey into a panic.

“Break time’s over!” Leia announced, stepping back onto set looking exhausted. “Let’s begin.” She doubled-checked that everything was still in place and picked up the clapboard. “Action!”

***

Hannah knelt by the fireplace, sweeping up ashes as she heard a slow procession of footsteps behind her.

“Good evening,” the Duke said. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new?”

The next stage direction is one that Rey was waiting for: _The Duke looks at Hannah and is awestruck. It’s clear to him that she is the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on._

“Yes, sir,” Rey says, looking up at Poe. “I just started here yesterday.”

And sure enough, Poe is gazing at her, his eyes locked onto hers with an intensity and a reverence that makes the Duke’s feelings immediately clear. It’s slightly more theatrical than the way he once looked at Rey—that soft, sweet longing—but there’s a hint of it all the same.

“What’s your name?” the Duke asks.

“Hannah.”

“ _Hannah,”_ he repeats, savoring her name like a prayer. “I do hope you enjoy working here.”

“It’s a very grand house,” Rey says, acting shy. It’s easy to be bashful around Poe when he’s putting on this performance, staring at her with the kind of lustful longing in his eyes that once made the movie magazines declare him the new Rudolph Valentino.

“A grand house doesn’t always mean happiness,” the Duke says, staring forlornly out the window. “In fact, I often find myself very much alone.”

***

**_December 23, 1931_ **

_Christmas lights sparkled in the windows of the stores on 5_ _ th _ _avenue, the mannequins looking merry and bright, perfectly wrapped presents perched in their wax hands. Beneath the lights, down the dark alleys, homeless men huddled together, wrapped in thin blankets and dreaming of warmer weather. Even amidst the high spirits of the season, it was impossible to forget how quickly the city’s population had succumbed to the floundering economy._

_And that night, walking amongst the housewives picking up last minute ingredients, the children dreaming of toys, the couples making their way out to the country to see their families…there walked a woman alone._

_Rey Skywalker made her way through the thinning crowds as people headed home to spend Christmas with their families. A light snow had begun to fall, and the street was bright and eerily silent._

_She had thirty-five cents in her pocket._

_That was all she could spare for herself right now, and she knew exactly what she wanted to do with it. She took out a hip flask from her coat pocket (one of her coworkers at the makeup counter had a husband who made moonshine on the side, and she had purchased some for expressly this purpose). She took a hearty swig of the stuff, wincing, and made her way across the street to the movie theater._

_“Hello,” she said to the man at the ticket counter, keeping her head down to avoid being recognized. “Could I have one ticket to_ No One is No One, _please?”_

_“Of course, ma’am. That’ll be thirty-five cents,” he said, sliding the ticket over. “Surprised a nice young woman like you is here this late, especially at this time of year. What you ladies will do to see that Dameron fellow, I swear.” He shook his head and laughed._

_“Thank you,” Rey said, turning sharply away from him and making her way into the dark theater. There were only a few other people inside, and she found herself a seat in the back row where she could be alone. She felt the moonshine start to kick in as she sat down, staring dumbstruck at the cartoon and the newsreel. She was wrapped up warm in her coat, and the flicker of the film and the alcohol swimming through her veins made it feel like a dream, everything slow and warm and blurring around the edges._

**_PRESENTING: POE DAMERON AND JESSIKA PAVA IN…NO ONE IS NO ONE._ **

_The credits rolled and then Jessika Pava came onto screen. Rey had met her a few times back in California. She was a nice girl, an actress who usually played girl-next-door types. It was a well known fact in Hollywood that Jessika favored women—something everyone knew and accepted but that no one ever talked about._

_Jessika’s character, Abigail, lived in a tiny farmhouse. She was a young woman taking care of her orphaned siblings, dressing them lovingly in rags and making sure they said their prayers every night. It was all very touching. A story of a kind-hearted woman with a difficult life._

_“I’m no one,” Abigail weeped ten minutes later, when she couldn’t afford a new dress for the party in town and the other girls had mocked her. Jessika was perched delicately on a park bench, sobbing, when a wonderful voice spoke out from behind her:_

_“No one is no one.”_

_The sound of his voice hit Rey like a punch to the throat._

_Poe walked over to sit next to Jessika and offered her his handkerchief. “Is there anything I can do, miss?” he asked, smiling at her in a way that was so genuinely and completely Poe that Rey began to cry, choking sobs rising up in her chest as she watched Poe take Jessika’s arm and walk her home. She wondered if he ever thought of her while he filmed, wondered if she ever went to see him_ — _if any of this was in any way for her._

_Impossible._

_Everything about him was so familiar, so real. The errant curl in his hair, the dimples in his smile, the little mannerisms that had become so endearing to her once—those treasured things were suddenly before her eyes again, and she didn’t dare look away. This part of the movie had Poe’s character, Henry, falling in love with Abigail as the two of them went to a carnival and a football game._

_Acting isn’t totally separate from one’s self, and as a former actress Rey knew this. You can pretend to be in love, but your mannerisms, the look in your eyes—all you can really do is replicate your own experiences of the thing._

_And this was what Poe was doing now, as Henry and Abigail took a romantic stroll through a garden in the moonlight. His hand was on the small of her back, guiding her along to ensure she didn’t get her hair caught on any branches, all while looking at her in complete awe and respect. It was heartbreakingly familiar._

_They turned towards each other, their faces silhouetted in the false moonlight._

_“Marry me, Abigail,” Poe said, pulling Jessika close to him. “Don’t you know how dearly I love you?”_

_“Oh, Henry,” Jessika sighed, turning away from him. “But I’m no one.”_

_Poe tilted her chin up so she was looking at him. “No one is no one. Especially not you, Abigail.”_

_“Oh, Henry, I do love you, I do—”_

_Poe took Jessika’s face in his hands and kissed her passionately as she swooned in his arms. Then they pulled away from each other, smiling, and turned to look toward the audience as triumphant music played._

_Poe’s eyes were sparkling, his smile breaking Rey's heart as he looked out at her through the screen. She_ _stared at him, completely bewitched, her cheeks wet with tears. The music came to a crescendo, suddenly fading as the screen went dark._

_“Come back…” Rey whispered, and then there was nothing but an empty screen; the sound of the film reel sputtering to a compete stop in the darkness._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short guide since this chapter has a lot of time jumps:
> 
> London, 1935  
> Article from Photoplay Magazine, August 1929  
> Hollywood, 1929  
> Hollywood, 1935

****

**London**

“My boy…” the voice, gravelly and cold, echoed off the walls of the drawing room. “I’m glad you’ve come all the way here to see me.”

Ben Solo entered the room, standing still as his boss turned around slowly in his chair. “So it’s true,” Ben said. “You really did escape prison.”

Palpatine chuckled in way that unsettled even Ben. “It was a long five years, but I managed. I had a lot of time to think. A lot of time to plan.”

“And?”

“Well isn’t it obvious?” the old man said. “The one thing, the one place that connects us both.”

“What?”

“Your parents. My granddaughter. Your mother is directing her in a new film, in fact.”

“I want nothing to do with my parents,” Ben said. “You know I prefer to consider them dead.”

Palpatine shook his head. “And that, my boy, will always be your downfall. Apathy is always sentimental at the very root, isn’t it?”

Ben stiffened.

“Now,” the old man said. “If you were really as wise as you’re always telling me you are, you would see this as an opportunity. Hollywood is full of money, and easy to infiltrate and destroy if you have the right information. All of your father’s money and connections could be in our hands if we play our cards right.”

“It might be more difficult than it—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Palpatine said. “Hollywood is delicate. Reputation is everything. Certainly you haven’t forgotten how my granddaughter was thrown out after I was arrested and her connections to me were exposed.”

“Yes, but—”

“It’ll be easy, my boy. I already have someone on the inside at Corellia Studios keeping an eye on things for me—a very careful eye. We’ll have your father’s money—as well as all of those actors—in the palm of our hands in no time.”

“Very well,” Ben said. “Send me a telegram after I return to the states when you have more instructions.”

“Oh, I will,” Palpatine said. “America has always been hypnotized under the gaze of Hollywood—and with your father and my granddaughter at the mercy of our puppet strings—there won’t be anything out of reach for me again.”

***

**PHOTOPLAY: AUGUST 1929**

**_SHOCKING SKYWALKER REVELATIONS! AMERICA’S SWEETHEART HAS BEEN HIDING A SORDID PAST!_ **

**_Rey Skywalker, who we all know as the fresh-faced young starlet from films like_ One Quarter Portion _and_ Difficult Man, _has been a Hollywood favorite since her debut. Playing the kind of good-hearted girls that every girl should aim to be and every man should aim to love, no one would have expected the bombshell news that broke this week about the actress’s true origins._**

**_It turns out that Skywalker, 22, was actually born Rey Palpatine in England. She was orphaned at a young age and then taken under the care of her grandfather, Sheev Palpatine—the same Sheev Palpatine who was arrested last week in London for being the mastermind behind a vast international criminal network; one whose crimes the authorities have only begun to unravel. Skywalker’s level of involvement with her grandfather’s activities is currently unknown. Palpatine has been known to employ fallen women to seduce men and steal information from his enemies—could his granddaughter have been one of them?_ **

**_Skywalker has been seen happily on the arm of_ Difficult Man _costar Poe Dameron for the past few years, and we can only speculate on how the actor is reacting to these revelations about his so-called “nice” girl. Surely there will be a line of far more respectable girls vying for his heart soon, if Dameron knows what’s good for him._**

**_Mr. Han Solo, president of Corellia Studios, was not available for comment._ **

***

**1929**

_“Mr. Solo?”_

_“Rey! It’s good to see you.”_

_“Good to see you too, sir,” Rey said. She was sweating bullets under her dress. There was really only one thing this meeting could be about._

_“Have a seat,” Han said. There was a sad look to him that was making her nervous. “As you know, your contract expires at the end of this year. And as you also know, it’s starting to look like talkies are going to be the norm from now on.”_

_Rey stared down at her feet. There was no way he hadn’t seen the papers—the headlines that had made her out as everything from a whore to a criminal and worse._

_A massive liability._

_“And to be honest, kid, your voice right now is not where it needs to be. We need people with strong voices for these new pictures.”_

_Rey sank into her chair, afraid to meet Han’s eyes. “So you’re not going to renew my contract?”_

_“No.”_

_“Because of my voice?”_

_Han met her eyes in a knowing glance. She appreciated his effort in finding a gentler reason to let her go. Rey’s voice wasn’t perfect, but she had enough star power that with a little training it would have been worth it to keep her on. She understood this lie was a kindness._

_“Yes,” Han said. “Because of your voice.”_

_“I understand.”_

_“Look, kid, I really am sorry. You’re extremely talented, and I’ve always liked you a lot—no matter where you come from. I swear.”_

_“Thanks,” Rey said, trying to hold in her tears, and rushed out of the office._

_It didn’t matter what Rey thought about herself, all that confidence she had struggled to build up after years of her grandfather’s insults and abuse. He had gotten to her after all. She was a fool to think she could ever escape him just by crossing an ocean. Her past had been unveiled, and one by one, everyone would turn against her. Even the one person she cared about the most._

_The papers were right. She was ruined._

***

Rey sat down in the makeup chair, pretending to listen to Rose talk about different shades of lipstick as she read over the script in her lap.

“Morning, darling,” came a heavily accented voice to her right, and Rey watched as the bottom of a gold silk robe swept across the floor.

“Zorii,” Rey said. “I didn’t think you were in the scene today.”

“Oh, I’m not,” she replied. “I’m in one after this, I’m just getting my makeup done a little early,” she explained. Zorii lounged in the chair next to her, her dazzling green eyes surveying the room. “It’s a boring one, really, just some expositional nonsense about a codicil in a will or something.”

“Oh, I see,” Rey said. She knew from reading the script that Poe was in that scene as well, and something about him being so close to those hypnotic eyes made her tense.

Rose put the finishing touches on her face and whisked her off to the bedroom set, where everything was still in place from the other day; the crew and cameras adjusting the lighting at the last minute. Poe is back in his old-fashioned blue uniform, looking dashing as usual.

They’re shooting a new scene today, one that takes place slightly later on in the movie, once Hannah and the Duke have been acquainted for a while longer and are starting to fall in love. Poe is staring out of the fake window on set again, refusing to turn around and greet her or even meet her eyes, murmuring his lines to himself.

Rey positions herself so she’s standing next to the bed, pretending to tuck the sheets in, while Poe stands just outside the door.

“Action!” Leia shouts, and Poe walks toward her.

“Good evening,” the Duke says, his eyes dark, and Hannah is still looking down, focused on making the bed perfect.

“Good evening, sir,” Hannah murmurs, blushing, and at this Poe takes a single finger and lifts her chin up to face him.

“May I say something?” the Duke asks, and now Rey is blushing for real, paralyzed just from the sensation of Poe’s finger gliding tenderly along her cheek.

“Of course, sir.”

Poe smiles at her warmly. “You’re far too beautiful to be cleaning houses, my dear.” He cradles her face in his hand. “Every time I close my eyes I see that beautiful smile of yours…those pretty hazel eyes…”

“You flatter me, sir,” Hannah says, propping up a pillow, and in a swift motion the Duke pulls her flush against him, and she goes limp in his arms.

“There’s no need to address me so formally,” the Duke says, stroking her hair and tucking it behind her ear. “Please, call me Charles—we’re alone now.”

Rey feels her body heat up, her heartbeat quicken, and she hopes it only comes across to the cameras and crew surrounding her as extremely effective acting.

“But sir—Charles, I…what about Lady Cornelia? I know you’re engaged, and I’m not interested in being anyone’s mistress.”

“I never suggested such a thing,” Poe whispers, his lips inches away from her own. “And I’ve never loved Cornelia. But you—oh, I’d give up everything I have for you, Hannah. I swear it.”

At these words Rey flinches, unnoticed by everyone but Poe—he had made a similar proclamation once, and they both knew the familiarity in the line hadn’t gone unnoticed by either of them.

“It’s easy for people who have everything to say such things,” Hannah said, pulling away from him. “You have no idea what its like to be poor, and wretched, and depend on others for your survival. I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.”

“We’ll find a way,” the Duke whispered, taking her hand. “We will. I’ll sell all of my expensive things and we can—”

“You’re being impulsive,” Hannah snapped. “Your family, your friends—everyone you know would abandon you. Your entire family would be thrown into disrepute. Is that really what you want?”

“Yes!” The Duke yelled, passion flaring through his veins. “How many times have I told you? I don’t care. I don’t care about money, or my reputation, or what anybody thinks. I only want to be with you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Hannah. Why won’t you believe me?”

Rey stared up at Poe, his eyes watering at the corners, his hands shaking, and realized they had both stopped breathing, the jolt of deja vu hitting them at the same time…her apartment, the crumbled tabloids on the floor, the half-packed suitcase in her bedroom…

_I don’t care. I love you. I’d give it all up for you, Rey. Oh god, why won’t you believe me?_


	7. Chapter 7

The scene they were shooting today involved most of the cast, so nearly everyone was on set today, including Han Solo, who sat moodily in the corner, smoking a cigar as he watched the crew set up. This was a scene that took place in the drawing room upstairs, where the Duke and Lady Cornelia would be discussing their impending nuptials with their families. Hannah would be dusting in the corner, listening in, her heart breaking a little more with each word.

Finn Calrissian was here today too, taking publicity photos of the Duke of Yavin and his family as they posed primly on the couch.

Rose pulled Rey away to sit her down in the makeup chair. Rey noticed her cheeks were flushed and that she was wearing more makeup than she usually did.

“What’s the occasion?” Rey asked, and Rose beamed, as if she had been waiting for an opening.

“Mr. Calrissian,” Rose said, giggling. “He took me out for dinner and dancing last week and I’ve been smitten with him ever since.”

“Oh, really?” Rey said, sharing a giggle with her.

“He is positively dreamy, isn’t he?” Rose said, pulling Rey’s hair back into a bun.

“The photographer and the head of makeup & costumes? That’s a perfect match if I ever heard of one,” Rey said.

“Right?” Rose giggled. “See, you’re not the only one who has romantic intrigue on set.”

“Excuse me?”

Rose bit her lip nervously. “I mean…you and Poe? I’ve seen the way you look at each other. And you used to be very serious with each other, no?”

Rey exhaled and closed her eyes as Rose swiped eyeshadow across her lids. “I mean, it was a long time ago,” Rey said. “Things…didn’t work out. Nothing’s going on.”

“That’s not what Finn said.”

“What!?” Rey opened her eyes.

“Um,” Rose tapped her brush nervously on the vanity. “Maybe I shouldn’t say.”

Rey narrowed her eyes. “Well you’re going to have to tell me now.”

Rose sighed. “Well, you know how Poe and Finn are close right? He’s done all the publicity for Corellia the last five years or so, so they’ve worked together a lot. And well, when I went out with Finn the other night he told me some things…”

“What things?”

“He and Poe bought some bathtub gin off one of the crew guys and got pretty drunk the other night…Poe was pretty upset and opened up about some stuff…Oh, god, I really shouldn’t tell you. Finn will kill me and Poe will kill Finn,” Rose said. “It’s probably not a good idea.”

“ _Tell me,_ Rose. Please? I’ll keep mum.”

“Alright,” Rose sighed. “Apparently Poe was saying that being so close to you all the time, especially in all those romantic scenes, is really taking an emotional toll on him. I’d…well I’d say he still has feelings for you, don’t you think?”

Rey shook her head sadly. “He hates me, Rose,” she said. “Trust me on that.”

“No, no, sweetheart,” Rose said. “There’s a difference between hating someone and hating how they make you feel…remember that.”

“Thanks, Rose,” Rey said, giving her a weak smile. She walked over to the drawing room set, where things were nearly ready for shooting: they seemed to be waiting on Han and Leia, who were arguing heatedly about something in the corner.

Sitting on the couch were the three main players for the upstairs part of the cast—Poe, in a dinner suit, Zorii, in a stunning scarlet beaded gown, and Padme Amidala, who was playing the Duke’s mother, the Dowager. Amidala was positively ancient at this point—no one knew exactly how ancient, but Rey had overheard her reminiscing about her father returning home from the Civil War, so she was certainly very old. She was once known for her outrageous fashion sense, but these days she mostly sat quietly, enjoying top-billing appearances as grandmothers and old maids in films like this one.

Zorii waved at Rey as she positioned herself with her dusting rags near the bookshelf, while Poe only gave her a small smile of acknowledgement. Was what she had heard from Rose really true? Did Poe still have feelings for her? If he truly was indifferent toward her, she realized, he wouldn’t be acting like this. There were feelings, alright—but Rey had a sinking feeling that they verged on hatred.

“Girl!” Padme croaked at her. “Fetch me some tea, would you? I’m parched.”

“She’s not a real maid, Ms. Amidala,” Zorii explained. “That’s Rey Skywalker, she’s playing the lead, remember?”

“What?” Padme yelled back, straining to hear.

Rey smiled to herself at Padme’s antics as she kept her eyes on the fake cardboard books on the shelf. When she turned around to peek at the couch again, she noticed that Zorii’s hand was perched on Poe’s thigh. She realized they were playing an engaged couple, but the cameras weren’t rolling at the moment.

As the room silenced, she heard Han and Leia arguing in the corner.

_“I don’t understand how they can know this much about our finances.”_

_“Well, they do. Somehow they know. There has to be a mole somewhere. It’s the only explanation.”_

_“Are you sure it’s not her? I mean she is his granddaughter. Maybe bringing her back was a mistake…”_

_“Han! No! We know her, she wouldn’t do that. And accusing her of a such a thing is just as bad as people not signing onto our movies because of Ben.”_

_“You’re right. We’ll get to the bottom of it. You better get going.”_

_“Alright.”_

Rey stiffened as Leia walked over, trying her best to pretend she hadn’t been privy to any of their conversation. The actors playing the upstairs denizens of Yavin took their places around the room. Besides Poe, Zorii, and Padme, there were two actors playing Lady Cornelia’s parents. One camera was positioned to capture their conversation, while another was close to Rey, there to catch her heartbreaking reactions to the talk of the engagement.

Leia got everything set where she wanted and grabbed the clapboard: “Action!”

“I can’t tell you how happy I was to hear that my Cornelia was betrothed to such an upstanding young man,” Zorii’s father said. “I’ve been told you were the most eligible bachelor in all of Yavin.”

“Only a girl as lovely as our Cornelia could have won him over, of course,” her mother added, and Zorii giggled, clutching onto Poe’s arm affectionately.

“Yes, yes,” Padme said, looking off into the distance as if she was struggling to remember her line. “There are a great deal of things to plan. Have you two decided where you’re going to honeymoon yet?”

“We’re thinking of touring Italy,” Cornelia said. “Rome, Florence, Venice…It’ll be beautiful.”

“Oh splendid!” her father cheered.

One of the cameras focused in on Hannah, who was doing her best to act crestfallen as she dusted off a book in the background, invisible to everyone but the Duke.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight, Charles,” Cornelia said. “Is anything the matter?”

The Duke took a small sip of his drink and looked down at the floor. “I’m fine, thank you, my dear.”

And with that the conversation about the upcoming wedding continued, Charles looking more and more uncomfortable as Hannah hurried to finish her chore, occasionally wiping a silent tear from her cheek.

The next part of the scene involved a small, covert exchange of glances between Hannah and the Duke, taking place as Cornelia’s mother rambled on about flower arrangements for the wedding. It’s written to be a powerful moment, but the script left no specific instructions as to what exactly this glance is supposed to look like. It was all up to them.

The silent era that Rey had developed her acting skills in was an age of melodramatics—expressions were jubilant or tragic or furious; anything more subtle would have been thought to be lost on the audience. The sound era was different—there was more nuance; more gray era to play in.

She and Poe turned towards each other, both of them electing to put on an expression of soft, resigned understanding—

But Poe looked straight into her, his eyes tormented and sad.

It made Rey wish that she had more features to work with, that she was a monstress with a thousand eyes, a hundred mouths, the ability to express a myriad of feelings as clear as day, so that she could turn to him, and in a single glance be able to say _I’m sorry…you have no idea how much._

***

When the scene had wrapped and nearly everyone was gone, Leia signaled to Rey to come talk to her in her office. Given what she had overheard earlier, she was feeling a little nervous.

“Why have you called me?” Rey asked, stifling a yawn after her long day of shooting.

“One simple and abhorrent reason,” Leia admitted. “I’m feeling very nosy.”

Rey shifted awkwardly in her seat.

“We’re old friends, of course,” Leia said. “Back when I directed you in _The Scavenger_ you were what…twenty?”

“Yes…”

“And I remember quite a lot from that set. How hard you worked. The really good cookies my assistant used to bring in. And of course, a certain handsome beau of yours who was always stopping in to visit.”

Rey felt her face turn scarlet and then took a deep breath. She had assumed Leia had chosen not to bring this up to save her the embarrassment. “Leia, it’s no secret that Poe and I used to be sweethearts. But it was a long time ago. We were so young then.”

“ _Exactly,”_ Leia said. “You were young. And those are the loves that you never quite get out of your system—I mean, look at me and Han.” Rey looked over to the side table and saw an empty glass with ice cubes still melting at the bottom. She must have been drinking.

“We’re professionals, Leia,” Rey assured her. “There’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“I’m not worried,” she said. “In fact, I think it’s making your performances even better.”

“There’s nothing going into—”

“Don’t play stupid with me, Skywalker,” Leia said, leaning back in her chair. “This is some of the best work I’ve seen either of you do, and I’m willing to bet that’s the reason.”

“It’s _not_ the reason.”

Leia sighed, as if realizing she had reached the end of the argument. “Let me just say this,” she said. “I remember back in those days, you’d be caught up after filming doing press or something, and I’d walk out and see Poe waiting for you, sitting alone on this rickety old chair for hours, just to see you for five minutes, sometimes. Never had a newspaper with him or anything to read. He’d just sit there and smile, every single day, as if the anticipation of seeing you was enough to occupy his thoughts. I’d never seen anything like it.”

Rey sighed and tried to hold herself together. “With all due respect, I think you’re being imaginative, Leia.”

“Have I ever bullshitted you before?” Leia asked.

“Okay then,” Rey said. “Then what exactly _is_ going on with you and Han these days?”

Leia smiled and shook her head. “That story is too long to tell right now.”

“Now _that_ sounds like bullshitting,” Rey said, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s not,” Leia said. “But I will say this,” she said, leading Rey to the door. “Don’t be stubborn. Once you get to be my age, you’ll learn that love will sustain you much further than pride ever will.”

Rey hugged Leia appreciatively and left, listening as a rare patch of rain pattered on the rooftop.

Only someone who directed movies could have made it sound so easy.

***

**_1929_ **

_Rey laid curled up on the sofa, groggy and still. The last few days since her meeting with Han had been a blur of sleeping too much or sleeping too little; downing three sandwiches in an hour or eating nothing at all. Her future was a dense fog in front of her—the kind of gray cloudiness that felt like England; like her grandfather; like realizing that most children grew up loved without questioning it once._

_She was stirred out of her daze by the sound of Poe’s key turning in the door._

_“I met with Han,” he said, anger seething from underneath the surface. “I couldn’t get him to budge.”_

_“What?” Rey said, sitting up._

_“I told him that if he was going to fire you then I’m going with you. The son-of-a-bitch told me it wouldn’t make a difference.”_

_“No…Poe…”_

_Poe shook his head and sat on the floor, trying to contain his rage. “I think I’m going to quit.”_

_Rey scoffed. “Don’t be stupid, Poe.”_

_“It’s not stupid.” he said. “I refuse to work for someone who would fire you for a scandal that you had absolutely no control over. It’s vile. I won’t do it.”_

_“You still have a few more years in your contract. You legally can’t go to another studio. Your entire career would be set back from a break like that.”_

_“Then I’ll wait,” Poe said. “We have enough money to live on. We’ll figure it out.”_

_Rey scoffed. “You’re being impulsive and ridiculous—this has been your dream for as long as you can remember. If you lose your momentum now we don’t know how long it’ll take to build it back up.”_

_“My dream of being with you is more important,” Poe said, gazing at her so earnestly it broke her heart. “We don’t have to be stars. We can get normal jobs, move to the suburbs, have a couple of kids. We could drive around in the Ford exploring the country like we used to talk about. Whatever you want, I’m in.”_

_“That’s silly.”_

_“Silly?” Poe said, holding back tears, his rage transforming to hurt before her eyes. “You and I? All those dreams we used to have? You think that’s silly?”_

_“That’s not what I meant,” Rey said. She stared down at the floor. She had purchased all of this week’s newspapers and magazines, read how dozens of writers had interpreted her ruin. Rey had crumpled them and thrown them across the floor, and a small part of herself wouldn’t let her discard them quite yet—it was like she had to punish herself by staring at them._

_“I’m going to tell Han I quit, and that’s final.”_

_“Poe! I won’t let you.”_

_“It’s not your decision!”_

_At this point they were both face to face, their cheeks red and stained with tears. Rey reached down and picked up one of the articles from the floor. “Did you read this one?” she asked._

_“No,” Poe said. “I saw one and it was enough.”_

_Rey flattened out the crumpled magazine page and began to read: “we can only speculate on how the actor is reacting to these revelations about his so-called “nice” girl. Surely there will be a line of far more respectable girls vying for his heart soon, if Dameron knows what’s good for him.”_

_Poe sighed, resting his head in his hands. “They’re just stirring up shit, okay?”_

_“They’re not wrong, Poe.”_

_“What!?”_

_Rey turned around, her eyes filling with tears. “It’s not just my reputation at stake here. Your career would take a turn if you continued being seen with me after you’ve discovered I’m the granddaughter of a crime boss…and…a whore…”_

_“No! God, Rey, no, listen to me,” Poe said, taking her hand. “I won’t stand here and listen to you talk about yourself like this. Your past doesn’t matter. Your choices_ **_now_ ** _matter. And you are…you are the most_ **_wonderful_ ** _person I have ever met, and I swear to god, Rey, I will march up to every newspaper office in town and I’ll—”_

_“I’m not letting you throw away your dreams for me Poe.”_

_“I don’t care.”_

_Rey was seething. “You know what, Poe? Some people are just…have too much passion in them to live sensibly. And I’m starting to think you’re one of them.”_

_“Ha!? It took you this long to notice?”_

_“I just wish you would think more carefully about this, about—”_

_“But some things don’t need thinking about!” Poe exclaimed, taking Rey into his arms. “I don’t care! I love you! I’d give it all up for you, Rey.” He held her close, both of them still crying. “Oh god, why won’t you believe me?” he whispered, and kissed her again and again, as if somehow he already knew he was running out of chances._

_They pulled apart and stared at each other, Rey’s eyes cold under the lamplight. “I’m going to bed,” she said, walking towards her bedroom. “I’ll see you in the morning.”_

_“Darling, please—” Poe whispered, but she had already shut the door._

***

_The next morning Poe woke up on the couch, his head aching from crying, and went to make some coffee, hoping Rey would be willing to talk to him after a good night’s rest._

_“Sunshine?” Poe said, knocking on her door. “I made some coffee, if you want some?”_

_There was no answer. And usually Rey was up far before him._

_“Rey? Rey!”_

_He opened the door and found the mattress stripped of its sheets, the room completely bare except for a note in the middle of the bed._

_“No,” Poe whispered, shaking his head. “No, no, no…”_

**_Poe-_ ** ****

**_You are so very stupid for me, sometimes. I don’t think that will ever change. So something has to._ ** ****

**_I am writing this in the kitchen while you sleep on the couch. I managed not to wake you packing. You look so beautiful asleep. I wanted to reach out and touch you one last time, run my hands through your curls, across the curve of your cheek, but I couldn’t risk waking you. I stared at you for a long time, remembering. Lots of people have called you beautiful. Lots of people see your face on screens and in the magazines. But like this? Only I know you like this, my darling. And I will never forget it._ ** ****

**_You are too talented to throw yourself away for a girl. I couldn’t bear to watch. But you won’t listen, will you? You stubborn, difficult, wonderful man—_ ** ****

**_I’m going away, far away, and I’ll be okay. Don’t try and find me—I mean it. Keep acting, keep making movies, and make me very proud, Poe Dameron. That is all I ask._ **

**_Goodbye, Dearest—_ ** ****

**_Rey_ **


	8. Chapter 8

Rey walked into Corellia Studios that morning to find the entire cast and crew gathered together, looking equally bored and anxious.

“What’s going on?” Rey whispered, her eyes catching Poe sitting across the room, his curls still untamed the way they often were from sleeping on them all night.

“No idea,” Rose whispered. “Leia told us all to gather here—the actors, crew, secretaries, everyone. Han is making some sort of important announcement—and it doesn’t sound like a good one.”

“You think they’ve gone bankrupt?” Rey asked, thinking about the unemployment lines she passed on the way over.

“I doubt it,” Rose said. “The movies haven’t been hit as hard as everything else—but what else could it be?”

Rey’s stomach lurched as she saw Han barrel towards the center of the room, his face red and eyes tired—whatever this news was, it certainly wasn’t good. The last thing she wanted to do now was take another sad train to New York to beg Mrs. Holdo for her job at the makeup counter back.

“Good morning,” Han said, looking over at his employees, who stood in curious circles around him, sipping their morning coffee. “I called you here because I have a warning. A serious warning…”

“…I’ve received information confirming that someone among you is passing on information to outside parties,” he continued. “Probably someone in this very room. And I want to tell that person—” Han exhaled, his face growing even redder. “That we are watching everyone—very carefully. And when we find out who it is,” he said. “I promise you the consequences will be far worse than you can imagine. We don’t take treason lightly here at Corellia.”

The room was still, everyone’s eyes locked onto Han, as if any accidental glance toward a friend or colleague could be interpreted as an accusation. “I’m asking all of you to keep your eyes open,” Han said. “If you see anything suspicious, come to me or Leia right away—clear?”

Everyone nodded silently, the room filling with whispers.

“Calrissian! Dameron! Skywalker!” Han shouted. “I need you in my office. We gotta go over some publicity stuff.”

***

“Just so you know,” Finn said as the three of them made a silent walk to Han’s office. “I may be in charge of publicity but—” he bit his lip nervously. “This new plan? All Han. Don’t come crying to me. I told him it was a bad idea.”

“All day photoshoots?” Rey asked.

“Those really in-depth and embarrassing magazine interviews?” Poe countered. “What is it?”

Finn sighed as he opened the door. “Just…you’ll see.”

“ _Finn!”_ Poe whispered urgently. _“Finn!”_

“Sit down,” Han said as the three of them walked in. “We have a lot to go over.”

The three of them sat down in front of Han’s desk, his previous announcement causing an uncomfortable silence.

Only Rey had the courage to break it. “Sir? What’s going on? With the spy?”

Han sighed and poured himself some whiskey, despite it only being ten in the morning. “It’s not good, kid. We’re being blackmailed.”

“Blackmailed?” Finn asked. “By who?”

Rey tensed in her chair.

“The Sith,” Han said. “The most powerful criminal organization on the planet. And I don’t have to tell you that both me and Ms. Skywalker here have some unfortunate connections to them, whether we like it or not.”

“Well, what do they want?” Poe asked. He was perched on the edge of his chair, ready for a fight.

“Money. Nearly every penny we have—and they know _exactly_ how much we got in the bank; as well as the details of everything going on in this studio. Someone’s keeping a careful eye on us.”

“And what happens if you don’t pay?” Finn asked.

“That’s the thing, kid. They don’t even need to name specifics,” Han said. “Anyone who knows the Sith knows they can destroy whatever they want with a snap of a finger—and whatever the worst-case scenario is, they’ll find a way to come up with something ten times worse.”

Han took another sip of whiskey. “None of this leaves this office, you hear?” Han pointed at Finn. “That means don’t tell your chatty girlfriend who works in makeup. I don’t want everyone so frightened they can’t work.”

Finn smiled, embarrassed. “So…are we going to pay them, then?”

Han groaned and rested his head in his hands. “I don’t know yet. But I’d like to avoid it for as long as we can. For now we just gotta keep ourselves safe and keep working,” Han pulled a stack of papers out from a drawer. “Speaking of which, we have to discuss this party.”

“We’re throwing a party?” Rey asked. “Now?”

“Ha,” Han said. “I wish. No, Ms. Skywalker—you and Mr. Dameron here will be _attending_ a party. Everyone who’s anyone in Hollywood is gonna be there…and a whole lot of people with cameras too. We need to get everyone back on board with the idea of you two as a couple before this movie hits theaters.”

“I’m sorry,” Poe said. “What?”

“You mean as a couple in…in the film, correct?” Rey added. Finn looked like he was ready to sink into the floor.

“No! Of course not,” Han said. “This movie is about bringing back the good ‘ol days before the economy tanked. And that includes the golden couple of the silent era being reunited once again. People are suckers for that sort of thing. They’ll be lining up to get tickets.”

“So let me get this straight,” Poe said. “You want us to pretend to be a couple in real life?”

“Exactly,” Han said. “You need to be out in the public eye on the regular, getting photographed holding hands and canoodling and whatever it is young couples do these days. It needs to be believable.”

“Um,” Rey said.

“I just…I just think…” Poe started.

“Look,” Han said. “I know it’s a little weird because you used to be sweet on each other, but it was a long time ago. If you two are as indifferent to each other as you say you are, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

“Right,” Poe and Rey answered at the same time.

“Good,” Han said. “It’s settled then. Mr. Dameron will pick you up for the party at seven o’clock sharp tomorrow night. Borrow something from wardrobe if you need to. And I better see some damn good pictures in the papers next week, understood?”

“Understood.”

***

Rey waited anxiously behind the door. It was 6:57, and Poe would be here any minute. She had borrowed a dress from the wardrobe department to wear tonight as Han had instructed. It was the simplest dress should could get away with at a party like this—it was a dark slate color, but formfitting and elegant enough that with some jewelry and a nice hat it would be passable.

Dressing up too much tonight felt—well somehow, it felt wrong. This was work. This was in no way a party for her own enjoyment. She was here because she had to be, and she wanted her dress to reflect that.

A date with Poe. Well, not a date. An _appearance,_ with Poe, she should say. This would be nothing like the old days, the summer evenings where Poe would show up with wildflowers in hand to take her dancing or out to dinner…the way he held her hand on the sidewalk like it was the greatest privilege in the world, the way he—

There was a knock on the door. Rey took a deep breath and opened it.

“Hi,” Poe said, glancing up at her with a smirk. “I believe you’re my date for this evening?” he teased.

“I believe I am,” Rey said. He was wearing a perfectly-tailored tuxedo, his hair slicked back just enough to contain his curls. “You look great.”

“So do you,” Poe said, smiling. He meant it.

Rey looked up at the end of the driveway and gasped in delight. “Is that…I don’t believe it.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“You kept the old Ford? Can’t you afford whatever car you want these days?”

“I suppose,” Poe said, staring at it wistfully. “But that car is a thing of beauty. Can’t seem to let her go.”

Poe walked her out to the car, holding the passenger door open and offering his hand to help her in. She took it, delicately stepping into the car in her high heels, her heart racing at the strong, familiar warmth of his hand—the hand that held hers for a few seconds longer than was necessary; the warmth of it lingering like an old memory.

Poe stepped into the driver’s seat, taking a deep breath before starting the car. “Look, Rey, I know this is, um…I know it’s weird. We can’t pretend it’s not weird. So let’s just…live with it, alright?”

“That sounds…sensible,” Rey answered.

“Good,” Poe said. “And I just wanted to…this is a little late, I know, but I wanted to say I’m sorry—for how I acted during our fight. I understand now that it was—”

“That was my fault,” Rey said, meeting his eyes. “I was the one who ran off in the night without saying goodbye. I should have talked things through with you before doing something that drastic.”

“No,” Poe said. “I mean, I shouldn’t have—”

“Poe, _no._ ” Rey said. “Don’t ever apologize for your big heart ever again, okay? I couldn’t bear it.”

Poe sighed. “Okay. And I’m sorry I’ve been…ignoring you since you came back. I hope you understand.”

“Understand what?”

Poe shook his head knowingly. “Rey…”

There was a brief silence, and then Poe held up an invisible champagne glass in one hand. “To the passions of our youth,” he said.

Rey lifted an invisible glass of her own. “Here, here.”

 _So that was it_ , Rey thought as Poe started the car and drove down the road. They had put the past away, chained it up and locked it in a dungeon, stranded it in a far-away land that they had vowed never to return to. They were different people, and it was done. They weren’t going back.

They drove in a tense sort of silence, making small talk about the film and different people at the studio, hovering just above the surface of anything too personal, too real. Rey peeked behind her at the back of the car, her heart aching at how it looked just the same—the floor piled with blankets and old books, the same place where nearly ten years ago Poe had laid her down and—

“Have you ever been to one of these parties at George Cukor’s?” Poe asked.

“No,” Rey answered, brought out of her reverie. “But I’ve heard his parties are the best in Hollywood.”

“They are,” Poe said. “He’s the biggest director in the industry and the only one who can truly bring everyone together. I’ve been to quite a few…some where paparazzi get invited, and some without. Everybody who’s anybody is going to be there, and it’s a good chance to network and make friends, if you want to.”

Rey laughed and stared out the window. “I just got here. I have no idea what I want yet.”

Poe smiled. “Well, there’s plenty of time to figure it out. And it’s worth it to go to Cukor’s just for the mushroom tarts.”

“I’ll be sure not to miss them,” Rey said, watching wide-eyed as the Ford pulled up into the driveway of a huge gated house. It was painted white, with lush gardens and a swimming pool out back.

Rey shifted uncomfortably in her dress as she and Poe made their way up to the front door. She was a star, sure, but she was a star from a bygone era, and most of the people she knew from those days had vanished as she did. A lot of the people at this party would be as bedazzling and strange to her as they would be to any other starstruck moviegoer.

“So,” Poe said. “Do we have a plan?”

“A plan?”

“You know…how we’re going to act so people think we’re together.”

“Ah, yes,” Rey said, pretending she had forgotten. She put her arm through Poe’s. “I suppose this is a good place to start?”

Poe took a deep breath. “We got this. Besides, we’re professional actors, right?”

“Yes, but people usually _know_ we’re pretending.”

“Fair point.”

A butler opened the door and took their coats, leading them into a lavishly decorated living room of deep red and gold. Familiar faces were gathered in corners and sitting on long couches, giggling and sipping their drinks. It already struck her as different from the parties she had attended in Hollywood when she was younger—now that the industry had grown into itself, the entire affair seemed more organized, and somehow more political.

“I don’t believe it,” came a far too familiar voice from behind them, and Rey turned around to see Bette Davis staring at them.

“Bette,” Poe said, kissing her hand. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Well,” she said. “I’ve seen you around plenty, dear, but _Rey Skywalker?_ What’s it been, five years?”

“Something like that,” Rey said, as Bette brought her in for a hug.

“Well, I’m glad to see you,” she said, as Poe excused himself to chat to an elderly director who was calling him over. “Did you sign back on with Corellia?”

“Yes,” Rey said. “Han was…Han was kind enough to sign me back on.”

“That son of a bitch shouldn’t have let you go in the first place,” Bette said. “We all have demons, and you’re not even to blame for yours. And you and Dameron? Are you back together then? I heard you split up.”

Rey took an hors d'oeuvre from a waiter as she contemplated her answer. She liked Bette and felt awful lying to her, but it looked like she didn’t have a choice. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, we’re back together.”

“I’m so glad,” Bette said. “You’re so good for each other. Zorii Bliss told me the other day that she was after him and the mere thought of such a thing was driving me insane.”

Rey nearly choked on her canapé. “Ah,” she said. “Well, nothing to worry about there.”

“Good,” Bette said with a triumphant smile, and then left to go join a group that had gathered around Errol Flynn, who seemed to be reenacting some sort of dramatic story with two olives on toothpicks.

“Hey,” Poe said, catching up with her again. “We should probably stick together unless we want to face Han’s wrath on Monday.”

“Good point,” Rey agreed. “Want to sit down?”

“Sure.”

She and Poe ended up sitting on a couch in the corner of the room, sipping martinis as they watched famous faces laugh and talk around them. At the same time, they noticed a man with a camera slip into the room.

“Oh, shoot,” Rey said, “Here, I’ll just—”

Poe slipped an arm around her and Rey cuddled into his chest.

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah. This works.”

 _God,_ Rey thought, the martini already getting to her head, _he stills smells the same._ He still smelled like a sultry yet comforting combination of leather, aftershave, and spice; his arms warm and tight around her, making her feel safe in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

“I think the parties in the old days were better,” Poe said. “When it was just me and you and Anna May and Harold telling old stories until the sun came up…”

“…gone with the microphones,” Rey said.

“Yes,” Poe answered, sighing. “Sometimes I wish the damn things were never invented.”

Rey felt Poe stroking her hair and smiled. “Why are you doing that?” she asked. “The camera man is over there by Clark.”

“It’s all in the details of the performance,” Poe teased, winking at her. “And you never know when he’s going to show up again. Also, Han is making us lie to _everyone_ here. Usually it’s just the press. We can’t be slacking off.”

“Bette called him a son of a bitch,” she said, and grabbed another martini off a tray.

“Are you sure about that? Those are pretty strong.”

“I can handle myself, Poe.”

Rey sipped at her new drink and fell back into his arms. “This is the strangest job in the world, isn’t it? It’s like a fairytale, but only the bad parts where you’re under a curse.”

“Wise words, sunshine.”

“Su-Did you just call me—”

At that moment none other than Greta Garbo sat down next to them, a huge grin on her face.

“Rey Skywalker!” she said, pulling her in for a kiss on the cheek. “I thought you had fallen with the rest of our comrades to the talkies. But here you are!”

“Here I am,” Rey said, smiling at her old friend.

“And I see you got your handsome man back, too.”

“I did. How’s MGM?”

Greta rolled her eyes. “I never sleep. You know how it is. Although I’ve heard Corellia is in some trouble…is it true?”

Poe cleared his throat. “I haven’t heard anything about trouble.” Rey shook her head in agreement.

“I see,” Greta said. “I heard that Han Solo is being blackmailed and that they have a spy in their midst.”

“It would make for a great movie,” Poe said, ever the professional. “But it’s not true.”

“Well, good,” Greta said, her accent becoming slightly more pronounced. “Now you two can focus on each other. It’s been a while since we’ve had a decent Hollywood wedding.”

“Wedding?” piped in Spencer Tracy, who had just passed the couch. “Are you finally going to marry this girl, Dameron?”

“U-Um,” Poe stammered. “There’s no plans for any such thing…yet.”

“A shame,” Greta said. “You two would just make the most _beautiful_ little babies, no?”

“Oh, yes,” Spencer said. “Her cheekbones and his curls? Unstoppable.”

Poe put down his drink, his cheeks flushed. “I think we’re going to go after some more food,” he said, pulling Rey up with him. “Excuse us.”

Rey walked on wobbly legs towards the door leading out back, leaning on Poe’s arm. “Sorry,” she said, the room spinning. “Those martinis.”

“Jesus,” Poe said. “Let’s get you a glass of water.”

Poe found Rey some water and crackers and took her outside to sit in one of the cushioned chairs that overlooked the pool. “We’re lucky the cameraman left before those martinis hit you,” he said. “It might still get back to Han though.”

“Why does he let you get drunk in public and not me?”

“Because I’m a ‘dashing rogue who breaks the rules’ and you’re ‘America’s virginal good girl’.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“It is. Hollywood has always been awful to women.”

“No,” Rey slurred. “I mean, yes, but I meant the virgin part.”

“The what?”

“I’m not a virgin.”

Poe chuckled. “I know, sweetheart,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I was there.”

Rey curled herself deeper into the chair, which felt especially soft against her skin in her drunken haze, the warmth of the night enveloping her in comfort. There were never stars like this in New York.

“This decade I have been on two dates,” Rey said matter-of-factly, lopsidedly raising her water glass. “They were both perfect men, and I hated them both.”

Poe laughed. “And why was that?”

“They did all these nice things—flowers and dancing and silly little love poems and it all felt so stupid. Fake. Like there was a long line of men pretending to be you and I could always see through them.”

“Well I’m sure they—”

“You loved me so much that I think I’ve been spoiled for everyone else.”

“Rey, you’re drunk.”

Rey smiled. “I’m drunk, Poe Dameron. And you’re sitting next to me,” she said, placing a hand on his cheek. “And you’re real, this time.”

“This time?”

“I would dream about you sometimes, in New York…and it always felt so real, like you were reaching out to me…I always woke up so happy…”

“Um,” Poe said, and Rey noticed him quickly wiping his face with a handkerchief. “Let’s get you home, alright? It’s been a long night.”

“Alright,” Rey said.

Poe helped her back into the Ford, where she promptly fell asleep the second she sat down, her head resting on the window as the streetlights illuminated their way home. When they reached her apartment, Poe helped her out of the car, taking her arm and walking her up to the door.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Poe asked. “I can maybe make you some toast, or—”

“I’m fine,” Rey slurred, a dopey smile on her face. “I’ll be just fine, Poe Dameron.”

“You keep using my full name.”

“I missed saying it out loud,” Rey said, and Poe’s heart sped up in his chest.

“Good night, Rey Skywalker.”

“No,” Rey said. “You never called me that. Call me what you called me earlier.”

“What?”

“You know what.”

Poe smiled. “Goodnight, sunshine.”

“Goodnight, Poe Dameron.”

***

The next morning Rey woke up nauseous and dizzy; with a pounding headache so painful that it made it impossible to do just about anything…

…and yet somehow, she had never woken up happier.


	9. Chapter 9

What a funny weekend it had been.

Rey had been too hungover to do anything but dream, and wasted two days stretched out on her bed, remembering the gorgeous, lovely blur of the party. She buried her head under the pillows, blocking out the sunlight and remembering how it had felt to be in Poe’s arms again; to watch him drive the Ford and hold her hand and smile at her in a crowded room…

And then, of course, there had been the stares of everyone else—those moonstruck expressions that said _goodness, aren’t they beautiful? Aren’t they lucky?_ _Aren’t they the kind of romance we used to think only existed in the movies?_

Rey had always assumed that she had simply grown up—and that was the reason why she had become lonely, cold, and isolated; hard-hearted against anyone’s attempts to win her over. But yesterday it had all become clear. It wasn’t youth she had been missing—

—it was him.

She was in love with Poe Dameron.

She had never fallen _out_ of love with Poe Dameron.

And Rey remembered, in the humid, sickly hours of that Saturday morning, that she had told him as much. She hadn’t been so drunk that she’d forgotten what she’d said. She had told him about her dreams of him, about how no one had ever matched up to him, hell, she’d even found a way to slip in the fact that they had slept together, just to see if he remembered it too, that it wasn’t just a memory she kept alone…

He had called her sunshine.

***

Rey watched in the mirror as Rose pinned her hair back, her face fresh and bright—it was the first day that she had felt completely recovered from her hangover, and she was ready to get back to work.

“Lots of rouge today, I think,” Rose said, sweeping the blush across her cheeks. “Today is the big kiss, right?”

“Yes,” Rey said, barely managing to hide her smile. Today’s scene was a lover’s tryst between the Duke and Hannah—they would be meeting in the rose garden on the estate to whisper sweet nothings to each other, only to have it end in an awful argument (and temporary separation) for the couple—and it was also the first time they would kiss.

She was going to kiss him.

When was their last kiss, anyway? Probably in the hours before their big fight, over five years ago now, on the front steps of her apartment, neither of them knowing it would be the last time…

…well, if today meant anything, not _quite_ the last time.

“Damn,” Rose said, rifling through a drawer. “Do you see some pink lipstick, the one in the green and gold tube?”

“No,” Rey said, looking behind her to examine the floor. “Don’t see it.”

Rose sighed. “I guess Zorii took it again. I was doing her makeup earlier and she must of grabbed it to do a touch up.”

Rey’s stomach clenched at the mention of Zorii’s name, suddenly remembering Bette’s comment from the party the other night—that Zorii was apparently after Poe as well.

“She always shows up to work far earlier than she needs to,” Rey said. “Have you noticed?”

“Yeah,” Rose said. “But I think she’s just dedicated to the job, is all…and at looking better than all of us, of course.”

“You don’t think…”

“What? You’re not seriously suggesting that it could be her, are you?” Rose said. “I mean, she’s _Zorii Bliss,_ for christ’s sake. She’s got better things to do. And besides, she’s really nice, and darn stubborn with her loyalties. She wouldn’t work for a bad cause.”

“I guess.”

Rose looked at Rey with a raised eyebrow. “Oh my god,” she said. “You seriously think it’s her, don’t you?”

Rey shrugged. “I don’t know,” she sighed, closing her eyes as Rose put on a few finishing touches. “How are things with you and Finn?”

Rose blushed. “Kind of amazing, actually,” she said. “I was…well, very upfront about how strong my feelings were, and it turned out he felt the same way.”

“Rose!” Rey said, pulling her in for a hug. “That’s amazing!”

“Thanks!” Rose said, shooing her off to set. “Now, go! You’ve got a handsome leading man to smooch!”

Rey laughed, waving goodbye to Rose as she walked down the hall to the set. Rose had been upfront about her feelings, and it worked for her—maybe she was on to something.

That spark, that invisible live wire that had always connected her with Poe; it was still there, it had never truly vanished—it had been severed and stretched across the country, but by god, it was still there. Rey had felt it spark alive these past few weeks, and surely Poe had felt it too. And if ZoriiBliss was after him, she could be running out of time. She simply had to tell him.

She walked onto the set, which had been transformed into a lush maze of cardboard trees and paper roses, a lavish English garden built in the middle of the dry heat of California. It looked stunningly real. Poe was standing in a gazebo crawling with ivy, looking devastatingly handsome in his old-fashioned navy uniform. He was talking to a cameraman, smiling and laughing in that endearing way that broke Rey’s heart and affirmed what she already knew.

God, she loved him. She had never loved anyone but him—and the second Leia yelled cut, she would say so.

Rey walked up to the gazebo, her heart pounding in her chest.

“How was the hangover?” Poe asked. “Those martinis were no joke.”

“Pretty bad, but I got through it,” Rey answered, trying her best to hide how flustered she already felt. Her costume, for the first time, was different today—since it was Hannah’s day off, she got to wear her hair down, and instead of her maid’s uniform she had on a plain white cotton dress, sensible but still pretty.

“Good,” Poe said. He looked nervous. He knew the script as well as Rey did, and he had to know what was coming.

“The set is lovely,” Rey said, trying to make conversation. “It looks like a real garden.”

“Yes.”

“Mhm.”

“It does.”

“Okay, okay, I’m here!” called Leia, running onto set with a stack of papers and coffee sloshing out of a mug. “Is everything ready?”

“Just about,” one of her assistants said, adjusting a light over the gazebo.

“Good,” Leia said, walking up to Rey and Poe. “Oh, you two look so marvelous I could cry. This might be my favorite scene in the movie—tender, romantic, forbidden love…the terror of losing everything to the whims of the outside world that won’t let them be together. Oh, it’s just grand. Really play up the passion, alright?”

They nodded as Leia positioned them next to the gazebo, so that Rey was haloed by a backdrop of roses. ”Perfect,” she said, grabbing her clapboard. “And…action!”

***

_**1927** _

The Scavenger _was a great film—and if this didn’t put Leia Organa on the map, nothing would. Rey had spent the last few weeks on set in a costume that was more or less a burlap sack, strategically covered in dirt so she would look like the leader of a gang of New York street urchins. There was nothing like waking up in the morning and washing your face only to have the makeup department pull out a literal bag of dirt to smear on on it an hour later._

_She looked filthy, pretty much constantly—but one person didn’t seem to mind._

_“Rey!” Leia called as everyone started on their lunch break. She had a knowing gleam in her eyes. “You have a visitor.”_

_“Thanks.”_

_“Be back by one o’clock!” she ordered. Leia never seemed to mind Poe’s visits as long as she was back on set in time._

_Rey ran outside into the hallway to see Poe sitting in his usual spot. He was working on another Corellia film,_ One Hell of a Pilot!, _a few buildings over, but their lunch breaks were still at the same time._

_“Hi!” Rey said, beaming the second he looked up and broke into a grin._

_“Sunshine!” he said, wrapping his arms around her and spinning her in circle, as if it had been three weeks since they’d seen each other instead of three hours. “How was the morning shift?”_

_“Good,” Rey said. “We’ve just wrapped the scene where the scavenger meets the dog that eventually leads her to her destiny.”_

_“Well I can’t wait to see it,” Poe said. He had a hungry gleam in his eyes that Rey recognized._

_“Come on,” she whispered, “Let’s go.”_

_Rey led him by the hand, turning a few corners until she found an empty prop room, dark and cluttered with swords and spaceships. She pulled Poe close to her so they were backed up against the wall._

_“No one will find us here,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him. “I promise.”_

_“Really?” Poe said, settling his hands on her waist. “I like the sound of that.”_

_Poe kissed her desperately, running his hands through her hair and pressing her against the wall. “Darling girl,” he whispered, kissing her again and again. “I love you so much, sweetheart, I—”_

_Rey shut him up with her lips, pulling him closer and closer, but it was never enough. They hadn’t—well, they hadn’t gone_ there _yet, but they were planning a summer road trip after they wrapped these two films, and when he kissed her like_ that _she found herself desperately hoping more and more that they would be sharing a bed._

_“It’s kind of nice,” Poe said. “Kissing somewhere where we’re definitely not allowed to kiss.”_

_“I think I like it better that way,” Rey whispered._

_“Oh, darling,” Poe practically moaned, moving down to kiss her neck. “Me too, baby, I can’t stop thinking about you, about kissing you, oh darling I—”_

_A few minutes later a burst of light came into the room, and they heard the indisputable sound of Leia clearing her throat impatiently. “It’s a quarter after one, you know.”_

_Poe jumped back, embarrassed. “Sorry, Ms. Organa, ma’am, I didn’t mean to—”_

_Rey blushed, letting Leia lead her out of the room. “I’m sorry Leia, it won’t happen again, I can’t imagine what you must think of—”_

_“Please,” Leia said, winking. “I got up to much worse in my day.” She looked at Rey’s neck and made a face. “But perhaps stop in makeup and have them cover that up first.”_

***

“Action!”

“Don’t worry,” the Duke whispered, pulling Hannah close and cradling her in his arms. “No one will find us here, dearest.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Hannah replied, already looking heartbroken. “You’re marrying Lady Cornelia next week.”

“I don’t love her, Hannah. I only love you.”

“Love has nothing to do with it,” Hannah said, pulling away from him. “If you don’t marry Cornelia, your fortune will be lost and you’ll be thrown out of your family. I’ll be fired without a reference. We’ll have absolutely nothing, and you’ll end up resenting me for it.”

“I don’t care.”

“You keep saying that.”

“I’ll keep saying it until you believe me, love,” The Duke held her close once again, and Hannah cried against his chest. “We’ll run away. We’ll meet here again at midnight, and take the carriage, and—”

“You know nothing of the real world,” Hannah said, letting out a dramatic sob. “How it crushes beautiful things without a care. I won’t let you do this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m leaving, Charles.”

“What? No, darling, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll—”

Rey looked up at Poe, their eyes suddenly meeting, their wounds opening once again.

“Anything?” Rey asked.

“Anything,” said Poe.

“Then marry Lady Cornelia,” Rey said, her voice shaking. “Be happy…for me.”

Poe looked down at her, his eyes heavy with tears—Rey had seen enough of his movies to know how he pretended to cry, and this was something more than that. Hannah began to turn around, to leave, and—

“May I kiss you then, once, before you go?” Poe took her hand, trembling, and Rey felt her heart stop in her chest, she was so frightened, so exhilarated, so—

“Of course, Charles.”

Poe placed his hand on the back of her head and drew her in, his lips caressing hers with a loving and tender familiarity that felt like home. Rey sighed, backing into the wall of roses as he deepened the kiss, pulling her close, and oh, how she had spent five long years just longing for—

“Cut! Cut!” Leia screeched, and they broke apart. “You two know about the Hays code right? Jesus Christ! At least if we cut it there it should get past the censors.”

Rey caught her breath, her face flushed, as she and Poe stepped apart, refusing to meet each other’s eyes. She was dizzy, her knees weak as she tried to process what had happened. Poe Dameron had _kissed her,_ and by god, was it possible he had gotten even _better_ at it?

“Good work,” Leia said, looking at them in a knowing way that embarrassed them both. “That’s it for today.”

Poe was frazzled too, judging by the way he kept running his fingers through his curls like he used to when he was nervous. Leia went off to discuss something with some of the crew members, leaving them both alone.

Rey took a deep breath. This was it.

“Poe?” she said, her voice shaking. “Can I…can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yes, of course,” he said assuredly, always able to regain his composure in a matter of seconds.

“It’s about last week…at the party…when I was drunk.”

Poe shifted, playing with the buttons of his uniform. “What about it?”

“Well, I um…I said some sort of crazy things.”

“It’s okay,” Poe said. “Everyone says funny stuff when they’ve had a couple of those martinis.”

“Not me,” she insisted. “I meant it. All of it. All of those things I said about you.”

“Oh,” Poe said, freezing in place and looking bewildered.

Rey reached out and carefully took his hand. “I thought maybe…oh, I don’t know, Poe, what we had was so good, and being here with you again has reminded me of just how wonderful it all was, and I thought maybe we could try again and see if—”

Poe pulled his hand away. “Rey…” He shook his head, and Rey felt her lip tremble on the verge of tears.

“But…”

He stopped and scoffed, looking down at his feet. “You have no idea how badly you broke my heart, do you?”

Rey froze with a lump in her throat, unsure of what to say next. “I’m sorry, Poe, and it hurt me too, those first few months in New York were some of the hardest I’d ever—”

“You didn’t _have_ to go to New York,” he said, his voice bitter. “You didn’t have to leave me—especially like a thief in the night.”

“I know, I’m sorry, and if I could do it again I swear I’d do things differently.”

“Do you know what it’s like to spend five years with someone you thought was the love of your life, only to wake up and find a note and never hear from them again? Did you _ever_ stop to think about how awful that was for me? Did you?”

“You know I did it for you,” Rey asserted.

“I _told_ you what I wanted, and you didn’t listen. All _I_ wanted? All I wanted was for you to stay.”

Rey stepped back, wiping a tear away with her handkerchief. “I’m…I’m guessing that’s a no then...”

“I’m sorry,” Poe said, reaching out to touch her arm. “I’m sorry I brought it up again. And I’d like for us to be friends, and make a great film together. But…I can’t risk getting hurt like that again. I hope you can understand.”

“Alright,” Rey said, managing a polite smile as she tried to hold in her tears. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Poe.”

“I'm sorry, Rey. See you tomorrow.”

Rey watched as Poe left the set, waiting until she stopped hearing his footsteps to burst into tears.

***

Ben Solo sat next to the phone, extinguishing his cigarette with a vigor as he listened to his boss finish giving him the instructions.

“Are you sure about this?” Ben asked. “If it goes wrong, if the authorities get involved…there could be trouble.”

Palpatine cackled into the phone, his menace cutting through the line even all the way from London. “Your father…” he snarled in contempt. “…is taking his time getting me the money. If _this_ doesn’t get him to hurry up, nothing will.”

“Perhaps a smaller step first would—”

“No, my boy,” he said, and Ben could almost hear the crookedness of his grin. “It has to be done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments! May the Fourth be with you! :D


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Moonlight91 for coming up with the idea of Errol Flynn flirting with Rey: it was too good of an idea to resist! <3

Rey was fuming.

Fuming with what, well, she didn’t quite know. After Poe’s rejection she had made her way home and spent the evening sitting on the sofa and staring at the wall. Sometime after dark her grief morphed into anger—anger at herself. How could she have been so stupid as to ask Poe, to his face, whether he wanted to give them a second chance? And how could she have messed up their relationship so completely in the first place?

But being angry with yourself, Rey knew, was no fun at all—and it was a little impossible to hate Poe right now considering how she had hurt him. But it had to go somewhere.

So that morning, walking onto set, she chose Zorii Bliss.

Zorii was sitting alone in her makeup chair, reading a newspaper as she waited for Rose to arrive. Once again, she was here far earlier than she needed to be, lounging in a gold dressing gown, her chestnut hair in waves around her shoulders.

“Why are you here early?” Rey asked pointedly. “ _Again.”_

Zorii smiled. “I love my job,” she countered. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I would think you had better things to do than to sit around in makeup at all hours of the day. Especially when you’re not even filming.”

Zorii put her paper down. “Are you accusing me of something, Rey Skywalker?”

Rey straightened herself up. “Maybe I am.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first,” Zorii sighed, lighting a cigarette. “One of the cameramen had this same conversation with me just the other day. But _you?_ I’m disappointed.”

“What?”

“As the only other foreign-born woman on the cast, I sort of assumed you would have my back—that you wouldn’t go assuming that a heavy accent meant I was hiding secrets—but here we are…”

Rey felt her face heat up. “No, no, that’s not why, I just—”

“Really? Why me then?” Zorii looked at her as if to issue a challenge, and then Rey’s next words escaped her lips before she had the time to think them over.

“You’re acting strange around Poe,” Rey said.

Zorii smirked. “Haven’t you ever heard of flirting, dear? I can teach you if you like.”

“Yes, but—”

“Just because we don’t end up together in the movie doesn’t mean he’s off limits for me when the camera stops,” she said, taking another drag of her cigarette. She looked up at Rey and froze, realization dawning on her face. “Ah,” she said. “I see.”

“See what?”

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you? I heard you were sweethearts years ago, but clearly there’s still something there, no?”

Rey froze, unable to speak, and Zorii just laughed.

“It’s alright,” Zorii said. “I was only after Dameron for some—well, let’s say, extracurricular fun. If you have real feelings for him I’ll gladly step away.”

“I, um—”

“Don’t be embarrassed, dear,” Zorii said, standing up and giving her a friendly kiss on the cheek. “It’s alright to admit that you’ve fallen in love.”

Rey still stood silently, unsure of how to respond. “I’m sorry I accused you. That was—well, it was unforgivably rude of me, and—”

“No worries, dearie,” Zorii laughed. “This is Hollywood. I’ve dealt with far worse than the likes of you, I promise.”

***

Poe wasn’t on set that day—today they were just shooting a scene downstairs with Rey and some of the other maids—but she was still scheduled to see him later in the evening. Carole Lombard was hosting a dinner party at a restaurant downtown, and Han had ordered them to make another appearance as a couple.

Poe hadn’t offered to drive her, probably assuming that she would want to limit her time alone with him after her humiliation the other night—and he was probably right. There was nothing Rey hated more than the fact that after Poe had rejected her suggestion of trying again, they were being forced to _pretend_ they were trying again, rubbing what could have been in the face of everyone in Hollywood.

Rey walked sullenly to the restaurant, a swanky Italian place only a block away from Corellia Studios. The restaurant had been closed off for the event, and Rey took a few deep breaths as the security guard at the door checked her name off a list and let her inside.

The restaurant was spread out with ten large, circular tables, where stars drank and smoked and laughed as they ordered appetizers and salads. The seats were assigned, and of course, Rey knew without looking at the seating chart that the empty space next to Poe Dameron was for her.

“Hi,” she said to Poe, taking her seat. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Poe said, giving her a polite smile. “Red wine?”

“Sure.”

They sat in silence as Poe poured her a glass from the bottle sitting on the table, and Rey looked around to see who else they were seated with. Directly to her left was Errol Flynn, followed by Claudette Colbert, Cary Grant, Irene Dunne, Frederic March, and Norma Shearer in the seat to Poe’s right. It was a nice group, although Rey wasn’t more than mere acquaintances with any of them.

“I’ve been waiting to meet the gorgeous Rey Skywalker,” Errol said, turning to her and kissing her hand. “Charmed.”

“Thank you,” Rey responded, blushing. “How are you this evening?”

“Much better now that I’ve made your acquaintance,” Errol said, giving her a devilish grin. “You must allow me to take you for a drink once we’ve finished dinner.”

Rey was about to accept when Poe cut in, leaning over the table. “Actually, she’s taken,” he said, smirking and placing his hand over Rey’s. “We recently got back together.”

Errol laughed. “Dameron, you sly devil,” he said, wagging his finger at him. “I should have known you’d win her back.”

“Is that so?” Claudette asked. “I thought the rumors were too good to be true.”

“Yes,” Rey said, squeezing Poe’s hand for effect. “We are…back together.”

“Oh, splendid!” Cary exclaimed, cutting into his steak. “I always knew you two were the real deal.”

Rey smiled and looked down at her plate, poking awkwardly at her food until Errol distracted them by summoning a challenge.

“A bet, ladies and gentlemen, for those of you who dare,” he announced, looking around the table. “If I can get Bette and Joan to talk to each other, you owe me a quarter. If I can’t, I’ll pay up. ”

“Errol, honestly,” Norma said, rolling her eyes. “Stay out of it.”

“Come on!” he said. “I can’t be the only one bored out of my mind right now. Let’s see what I can do. Dameron, you in?”

Poe sighed. “Fine.”

“Alright then!” Errol said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Excuse me for a moment.”

The table pretended to small talk as they watched Errol waltz across the room, first charming Bette out of her seat and then leading her over to Joan’s table (which had been judiciously placed on the other side of the room). They watched, giggling behind their hands as Errol began telling a story, getting both women to laugh and trade faux pleasantries, each of them glaring at the other as if suspicious that the other was somehow playing them for a fool.

The table burst into laughter as Errol came back, pouring more wine into their glasses as they applauded his efforts. “I told you I could do it,” he gloated. “Pay up, Dameron.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Poe said, digging his wallet out of his pocket to retrieve a quarter. As he opened it, Rey spotted something familiar sticking out of one of the inside pockets: **_difficult, wonderful man—I’m going away, far away, and I’ll—_**

It was her handwriting. It was _her note._

Had Poe kept it with him, all this time, all these years? Rey felt like she had stopped breathing. _Why did he still have it? He still has it?!?_

Poe didn’t seem to think she’d spotted anything, as he’d opened and closed the wallet quickly and was continuing to laugh at Errol’s antics with the rest of the table. Rey found herself staring absentmindedly at the plate of spaghetti in front of her, trying to process what it all meant.

“You all right, dear?” Norma asked, looking over with concern, and Rey nodded.

“Maybe a bit too much wine, is all,” she said.

The rest of the dinner went smoothly, Errol and Cary taking up so much of the spotlight with their banter that all Rey had to do was sit and listen. She picked at her food, eager to go home, make a cup of tea, and contemplate what it meant that… _Poe’s had her goodbye note with him every day since 1929?!?!?_

In the middle of one of Norma’s anecdotes a waiter came to the table.

“Telegram for Rey Skywalker,” he announced, and placed a folded paper in Rey’s hand. She inspected it carefully and then tore it open:

**WESTERN UNION**

**REY—**

**COME TO THE STUDIO AFTER DINNER. URGENT MATTER.**

**H. SOLO**

She showed the telegram to Poe and shrugged. “That’s odd, isn’t it?”

Poe looked it over, a dubious expression on his face. “I wonder what could be that urgent?”

“I don’t know…” Rey said. “Maybe I should go now and check.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to finish dinner first?”

“No,” Rey said, glad for an excuse to escape. “I’ll go.”

“I can drive you.”

“It’s only a block away,” Rey said. “I can just walk.”

“If you’re sure,” Poe said, smiling over at her, and Rey waved goodbye to everyone at the table as she made her way out the door.

***

Rey found herself getting anxious as she walked the dark streets toward the studio. Ever since that ill-fated meeting with Han Solo years ago, the one where he’d fired her, any sort of important meeting with the man made her a bit nervous. However, Han was a hard worker, and it wouldn’t be unusual for him to have some sort of deadline for the film he needed her help to meet. That was probably all it was—two paragraphs for a magazine interview, and she could finally go home.

She found the door unlocked and walked in, finding that barely any of the lights were on at this hour. Rey walked down the hall until she reached Han’s office and knocked on the door.

There was no answer.

“Mr. Solo?” she called. “Han?”

Rey turned the doorknob and looked inside. The lights were off, and his office was completely empty. Her stomach turned. Surely he was just somewhere else.

She wandered down the hall, following a source of light until she reached the makeup and costuming area. Rose was there, cleaning makeup brushes in a large dish of water.

“Oh thank god,” Rey said, letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I was starting to get really creeped out for a second there.”

Rose laughed. “Han told me he’d sent for you. He’s just grabbing something. He told me to tell you he’ll be here in five minutes.”

“Oh, alright,” Rey said, sighing in relief. “You don’t happen to know why he’s called me at this hour, do you?”

Rose shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.” She looked at Rey carefully, squinting at her left eye. “You’ve got some major mascara smudge there, sweetheart. Let me fix it before Han gets here.”

“Thanks,” Rey said, sitting down in her usual chair. 

“Close your eyes, okay?” Rose said.

Rey shut her eyes, relaxing as she felt Rose brush a wet cloth across her eyelids. She went over the events of the evening in her imagination, remembering how despite his rejection, Poe had flinched when Errol flirted with her (and it felt like more than their contractual obligation to pretend to be a couple) and how he’d offered to drive her here, how—

She suddenly felt something being wrapped around her arms. “Rose?” Rey asked. “What are you…Rose!?”

Rey’s eyes shot open, and she realized a second too late that she had been tied to the chair with a rope.

Also, that Rose Tico was holding a pistol to her head.

“Don’t. Move.” she ordered, her voice gone cold. 

There was someone else standing behind Rey's chair, out of her line of vision. From the way Rose looked up at the stranger, they couldn’t be anyone good.

“You were right, Ben,” Rose said, smiling down at Rey with the false pity one gives a very stupid child. “She never suspected her best pal, the silly little makeup girl."

Rey gasped, and Rose just grinned, twisting the pistol harder into her forehead. "These actresses are just too easy to fool.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: frightening kidnapping/hostage situation. (and reminder you're always welcome to message me if you want more details before reading something <3 ).

Poe finished off the last sip of his wine, only half-listening as Claudette Colbert told a story about a theater role she’d had years ago. The room felt empty without Rey by his side, and the more time passed, the more uneasy he became. Perhaps he should have escorted her to the studio. Something about that telegram just felt…off.

Halfway through dessert being brought out, Poe heard familiar voices calling his name from behind him.

It was Han and Finn.

“We’re a little late,” Finn said, “But we figured we’d make an appearance.”

“What he means,” Han joked, pointing at Finn. “Is that this man can only be bothered for free cake.”

Poe stared up at them, panic settling over his face.

“Poe?” Finn asked. “Is something wrong?”

Poe looked over at Han, his heart racing. “Did you just send Rey a telegram asking her to meet you at the studio?”

“A what?” Han said. “No…”

The three of them glanced at each other, a hundred horrifying possibilities racing through their heads.

“My car is outside,” Han said, and the three of them sprinted out of the restaurant as the rest of the room gave them puzzled looks. “Let’s hope it’s not too late.”

***

**_1928_ **

_Rey smiled as she opened her eyes to the morning light coming through the window. She felt cooler, lighter, somehow more balanced. Her fever must have broken in the night—she felt considerably better, like she was ready to stretch out and finally get herself a proper breakfast._

_She turned to see Poe lying next to her, groaning with a mist of sweat across his forehead._

_“Oh no,” Rey grumbled, waking Poe up. “I told you this would happen.”_

_“Mhmm..what? What would…what?”_

_“You caught the flu from me!” Rey scolded. “This wouldn’t have happened if you had just let me take care of myself!”_

_“I’m fine, I don’t have the…” Poe sat up only to collapse back on the bed. “I’m just—”_

_“You have the flu.”_

_Poe groaned and put his hand over his face. “I have the flu.”_

_Rey burst out laughing. “I told you to sleep in the other room,” she said. “But_ someone _wouldn’t listen.”_

_“I know, but you were shivering in the night, I had to make sure—”_

_Rey kissed his forehead, brushing his curls back. “You are so difficult sometimes, you know that?”_

_“Yes,” Poe said, smirking and burrowing back under the blankets. He groaned. “I guess I’m gonna be in bed all weekend, eh, sunshine?”_

_“It’s alright, I’ll stay with you,” Rey said. “I’m feeling much better this morning, thanks to you.”_

_“No, no, you don’t have to.”_

_“I will,” Rey said, letting Poe rest his head on her lap. “I’ll read to you.”_

_“I’d like that,” Poe answered. Rey turned to her nightstand, picking up a worn and dog-eared copy of Jane Austen’s_ Persuasion _and starting to read:_

_“She understood him,” Rey read, stroking Poe’s hair gently as he listened. “He could not forgive her,—but he could not be unfeeling. Though condemning her for the past, and considering it with high and unjust resentment, though perfectly careless of her, and though becoming attached to another, still he could not see her suffer, without the desire of giving her relief…”_

_Poe’s eyes were dreamy with fever as she read, the idea of a love falling apart and leaving painful scars too distant and strange for him to comprehend from here; from the warmth of the bed; from the youthful and wonderful certainty that things would be like this forever…_

_“It was a remainder of former sentiment;” Rey continued. “It was an impulse of pure, though unacknowledged friendship; it was a proof of his own warm and amiable heart, which she could not contemplate without emotions so compounded of pleasure and pain, that she knew not which prevailed...”_

_“Why did you insist on staying with me?” Rey stopped to ask, closing the book and cuddling close to Poe. “You have to film next week, and you know I can take care of myself.”_

_Poe turned to face her from beneath the covers, gazing at her as affectionately as ever. “Because I love you,” he said, kissing her hand. “And that means I’d never let anything happen to you. I’d never let you suffer alone, sunshine. I’ll always protect you—no matter what.”_

***

Rey took in a shuddering breath, trying to keep herself from crying as Rose and Ben Solo circled around her like vultures. They were examining her closely, taking their time—if they were going to hurt her, Rey thought, she almost wished they would get it over with already.

“What do you want with me?” Rey choked out.

“Not much at all,” Ben said. “We’re just going to lock you away for a few days until Han delivers the money he owes us. Then we’ll let you go.”

“He doesn’t _owe_ you anything,” Rey said. “You’re blackmailing him. Your own father. How could you do this to him!?”

Ben shook his head, staring at her with a hatred that felt too strong to be coming from someone who she’d never even met before . “That’s rich coming from a girl who abandoned her own grandfather,” he said. “He actually insisted that you were the one we take hostage—you know how he likes a bit of…poetic justice.”

“You don’t know the abuse I suffered at his hands,” Rey cried, choking back a sob. “I had to run. Han and Leia are good people. They don’t deserve this.”

“They’re fools and cowards!” Ben cried, kicking over an empty chair. “Do you know what I’d give to come from a family like yours!?”

Rey shook her head in disbelief. “Do you know what I’d give to have one like yours?”

They met eyes for a moment, a small offering to the twisted bonds that united them both.

“I always heard that you had darkness inside you,” Rey told him, tears running down her cheeks as she turned to Rose. “But you?”

Rose gave her a sickening smile as she sauntered around the room, carrying herself like an entirely different woman, like some malevolent spirit had taken over her body, suffocating the girl she once knew. Rey had seen some stunning performances in her life, but if anyone deserved the Academy Award for best actress, it was undoubtedly Rose Tico.

“Oh, Rey,” she teased. “Always so wrapped up in her own problems… _oh golly, I hope I act well today! I hope Poe Dameron notices me! I hope—”_

“Shut up,” Rey said.

“Watch your mouth, Ms. Skywalker,” Ben said. “Just because we’re not planning to hurt you doesn’t mean we can’t change our minds.”

“Listen, sweetheart,” Rose said, leaning over her with a condescending pout on her lips. “This is a tough town. You can’t get by if you play by the rules. You have to hurt some people if you want to win. You understand what I’m saying?”

Rey looked up at Rose with a quiet rage, still stunned at how her friend had transformed before her eyes. “I’d rather lose if it meant sacrificing my conscience.”

“Oh sweetie,” Rose said. “It’s not over just because you have the moral high ground.”

“That’s enough Rose,” Ben said, “Let’s hurry up and move her to—”

A door burst open, and Rey gasped as Poe, Finn, and Han came dashing into the room. Poe’s eyes immediately went to Rey tied up in the chair, while Han stopped in his tracks when he saw his son.

“Rose!” Finn shouted before anyone could move. “It’s okay, I’m here, I got you, I—”

Rose pulled the pistol out of her pocket and pointed it at him, stopping Finn in his tracks. “Surprise, honey,” she said, and cackled.

Rey watched in horror as the realization dawned on Finn’s face. “No,” he said. “No, no, no. Rosie…this is a joke, stop it, I thought we—”

“Think again,” Rose said, a terrifying smirk on her lips. “You sure are a gullible bunch.”

Han walked up to his son, the years and betrayals that had separated them showing painfully on his face. He looked more tired than ever before.

“So you’re behind this, huh?” he said.He didn’t look surprised. Only disappointed. “The Sith blackmailing me I would expect. But you?”

“Yes,” Ben said. “You mean nothing to me anymore.”

“You broke your mother’s heart.”

“I don’t _care.”_

“I don’t believe that.”

As Han and Ben stared each other down, Poe stood in the corner waiting, and Rey could tell he was calculating some sort of plan, deciding what move to make next. Only Rose was visibly armed, but Ben Solo wasn’t the kind of man to go walking around without a weapon.

“Hand over the cash, and then you can have your lead actress back,” Ben said. Rey shuddered as he walked up behind her and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “I think that’s a fair deal.”

Poe’s eyes followed Ben’s hand as it grasped her shoulder, and at that point he couldn’t bear to hold back any longer. “Let her go,” Poe demanded, marching up to him with rage burning in his eyes. Even with Ben towering over him, Poe’s confidence made the room go deathly still. “Take me instead. They can’t finish the film without me either.”

“I don’t think so,” Ben said. “You see, my boss specifically requested we take the granddaughter who so callously betrayed him…”

“Dammit Solo,” Poe seethed. “I swear if you lay another finger on her I’ll—”

Suddenly the door crashed open, and a dozen or so policemen ran into the room with their guns held up. “Nobody move!”

The officer in charge spotted Ben immediately. “That’s him alright,” he said, watching smugly as his men ran towards Ben, surrounding him and putting him in handcuffs. “You’re wanted all over the country, Ben Solo,” he said. “But it looks like those days are coming to an end.”

“Let me go!” Ben shouted, thrashing in the arms of the officers as he tried to free himself. “I know people, I have connections—I’ll have you all killed for this, you’ll regret it! You’ll see!” He continued his tantrum as the police tried to hold him still.

“Her too,” Finn said coldly, gesturing towards Rose, who was trying to slip her pistol under her dress and fade into the background.

“You’ll regret this,” Rose snapped at him.

Finn scoffed. “I don’t think so. Enjoy prison, sweetheart. Maybe the ladies there will want their hair and makeup done too.” Rose spat in his direction as the cops put her in handcuffs, and Finn just shook his head at her regretfully. Poe ran over to Rey, frantically untying her bonds as she tried to catch her breath.

“I don’t get it,” Finn said. “Who called the cops?”

“I did.”

They turned around, all of them stunned to see Leia standing in the corner in her slippers and dressing gown, rollers still in her hair. “I’ve always had an apartment upstairs. I heard Ben’s voice from my room and contacted the authorities right away.”

Ben sulked from across the room as he was being dragged away, his eyes never leaving his mother’s. “You would call the cops on your own son?”

“Yes,” Leia said, and somehow even in her bathrobe she looked more regal than they’d ever seen her. “If he was hurting innocent people; then yes, I would.”

Most of the police who had showed up were working on wrangling Rose and Ben into the back of two of their police cars to drive them back to the station; while a few stayed behind to discuss the details of what had happened.

Poe barely noticed.

He was too busy helping Rey out of the chair, rubbing her arms where the ropes had chafed them. She could barely stand, so he sat down on the floor with her, cradling her in his arms as he rocked her back and forth. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Rey, darling, are you alright?”

“Yes,” Rey said, smiling even as she choked back a panicked sob. “I just…I really thought…Oh god, Poe, I really thought they were going to kill me, I thought—”

“Hey,” Poe said, pressing his forehead to hers. “I got you, okay? You’re safe. You’re safe now.”

Rey collapsed into his arms, crying softly as he held her close. Poe stopped to brush back her hair, staring at her tear-stained cheeks with absolute reverence. “I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispered, starting to cry himself. “I thought for a second there…I thought…”

“I know,” Rey said, sobbing into his shoulder, trying not to think about how once Poe let go, she would never get to feel him hold her like this again.


	12. Chapter 12

Finn had driven her home after the incident; insisting on staying with Rey in her apartment for the next few days. Rey had sworn she could look after herself, but once she found herself lying alone in the dark, the memories of that night retuning to the surface, she was grateful to know that Finn was sleeping in the next room.

It hadn’t been an easy couple of days for him, either. Rey knew how much he had grown to love Rose, and the revelation of her true identity had hit him hard. Work had been delayed for a week, Han deciding that everyone could use some time to recover from what happened. There wasn’t much for them to do except lie around, Rey listening to radio dramas while Finn read through her collection of Agatha Christie novels. Leia and Poe had both called multiple times to check up on them. Poe asked to visit, but Finn had politely declined for them both—Rey was frazzled enough without adding _those_ emotions into the mix. Silently, they had resolved not to talk about it too much—the comfort of each other’s presence was enough for now.

It was the Sunday before they were scheduled to return to work, and Rey had still woken up at the crack of dawn. She was busy making a full English breakfast for her and Finn, the radio playing swing music from the living room.

“Damn, that smells good,” Finn said. “You think I can live here forever?”

Rey laughed and handed him his plate. “As roommates go you’ve certainly been one of the best.”

They sat down and dug in, the silence eventually growing heavy over them. Finn picked at one of his eggs.

“Will Rose be okay in prison?” he asked.

“ _Okay?”_

“Yeah, I mean, it’s tough in there, right?”

Rey sighed, almost too afraid to look Finn in the eye. “Our Rose? Probably not. But she was never our Rose in the first place. I’m…I’m sure she’ll be just fine.”

Finn nodded, and Rey’s heart ached for her friend, always so kind even when the world wasn’t kind to him. He stirred at his coffee, looking back up at Rey with concern.

“How are you feeling about going back to work tomorrow? Are you ready?”

“I think I am,” Rey said. She had gone back to the studio yesterday with Finn so she could get used to being there again; so she could once again remember the warmth she’d always felt there before her near kidnapping. The chair she had been tied up in was gone, but otherwise, things looked just the same. She could do this. “Especially if I’m there in the daytime with everyone else nearby, I’ll feel safe. I’ll be okay.”

“I’m glad,” Finn said, biting his lip anxiously. “Can I…can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“I saw the way Poe was holding you after the police came,” he said. “Is there…is there really nothing there?”

“According to him there’s not,” Rey said, stabbing at a piece of bacon. “When I asked if he was interested in trying again, he told me he couldn’t risk getting hurt again.”

Finn sighed. “I met Poe in 1930, shortly after you left for New York. And he was—even not knowing him before, he seemed like a shell of himself. I can understand why he’s scared.”

“I was needlessly cruel to him,” Rey said. “He didn’t deserve it…and so I suppose I don’t deserve a second chance.”

Finn just smiled to himself.

“What?” Rey asked.

“Did you know he still keeps your note in his wallet?”

Rey blushed. “I saw, actually.”

Finn smirked as he took a sip of coffee. “That’s not the habit of a man who isn’t in love, if you ask me.”

***

The mood on set was different this morning.

Leia gave her a long hug when she walked in, clutching her in a motherly way that made Rey’s heart ache.

“How have you been, dear?” Leia asked, and Rey smiled.

“Just fine, Ms. Organa,” she said. “And you?”

Leia sighed. “I can’t say my choice to call the police on my son hasn’t been keeping me up at night,” she said. “But it was the right thing to do. Ben’s made his choices, and now he has to deal with the consequences.”

Rey nodded, filled with admiration for her resilience. She knew that as a child Leia’s house had burned down, taking her entire family with it and leaving her alone in an orphanage. But she had fought her way out and left for Hollywood with nothing but a dream, ignoring the naysayers who said that as a woman she had no place being behind the camera. Leia could survive anything, and it gave Rey hope that just maybe she could too.

Rey walked towards makeup, calming her breathing as she stepped into the room. Rose was gone, her usual chair was gone—instead a stranger stood in her place, a girl with brown skin and a green sequin dress, her eyes sparkling as she rearranged the makeup brushes.

“Hi,” she said, holding out her hand. “Jannah. Your new makeup artist and costumer. One-hundred percent verified to not be a spy for a criminal organization,” she joked, winking.

Rey grimaced.

“Too soon?”

Rey laughed. “Maybe?”

Jannah winced. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself. Let’s get you set up for this scene, yeah?”

Rey smiled as she sat down, listening to Jannah tell her about her hometown as she swiped blush across her cheeks. This really was a new beginning, Rey thought. It had to be.

“So today’s a pretty big scene, I hear,” Jannah said.

“Yes,” Rey said. “It’s the wedding between Lady Cornelia and the Duke of Yavin.”

“But they don’t end up married, right?”

“No,” Rey answered. “I end up interrupting.”

“Nice!” Jannah said. “I can’t wait to see it.”

Jannah sent her off with a smile, Rey waving goodbye to her new friend as she made her way through the halls of the studio to one of the larger sets.

She knew the church scene was supposed to be grand, but nothing could have prepared her for what she saw when she walked in. The room was lined with wooden pews, all of them filled with extras in their Sunday best, all looking toward the front of the church, where the preacher stood in front of massive painted panels made to look like stained glass. Zorii stood near the front in an exquisite high-necked beaded wedding gown, while Poe stood at her side in a tux. The overall effect was breathtaking.

“Oh my goodness,” Rey told Leia as she was ushered in. “Everyone’s outdone themselves.”

“Isn’t it marvelous?” Leia said. “It’s going to look fantastic on film.” She quickly excused herself to give some directions to the cameramen, and so Rey took the opportunity to say hello to Poe and Zorii.

“Rey!” Zorii exclaimed, nearly in tears as she pulled her in for a near-suffocating hug. “I heard what happened, I was so worried, you poor dear, I’ve been just beside myself with worry, I—”

“I’m alright Zorii, I promise,” Rey said, smiling at her reassuringly. Poe hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “I’m fine.”

At that Rey turned around, already walking down the steps to the altar.

“I’m really happy to hear that, sunshine.”

Rey froze, the use of her old nickname stopping her in her tracks. When she turned around, Poe was smiling at her kindly, and she saw from the look in his eyes that his words were no accident.

“Thanks, Poe,” she said, and they shared a look that made her blush. Finn’s words from breakfast yesterday rang through her head: _That’s not the habit of a man who isn’t in love, if you ask me…_

Rey took her place in the pews with the other servants near the back of the set. They were dressed in soft linen outfits and straw hats adorned with wildflowers—nice clothes, but not as nice as the dresses worn by the aristocratic ladies in the rows ahead of them. Rey said hello to the other actors, and then sat down in the pew, going over her lines in her head. The organ would play, Lady Cornelia would saunter down the aisle, the Duke would look heartbroken, and then the priest would say “speak now, or forever hold your peace”.

—and then Hannah would march up to the altar.

She would declare her love for the Duke, the crowd reeling in horror at her audacity, while Hannah apologized to Charles for her foolishness, and admitted that she couldn’t bear to see her beloved marry someone else. She had been wrong—she _would_ let Charles give up everything for her. They would kiss, run away from it all, and live happily ever after.

Rey took a deep breath as Zorii positioned herself at the back of the church. She could do this.

 _“Action!”_ Leia shouted.

The organ started to play and Zorii began walking down the aisle, her massive train following behind her. Rey looked up to see that Poe’s eyes were not on his bride at all—they were on her.

…that…that wasn’t in the script.

Rey watched as Poe and Zorii stood across from each other, the priest beginning to read out the opening remarks.

“If any of you can show just cause why they may not be lawfully wed,” the priest read out. “Speak now, or else forever hold your—”

Rey ran out into the middle of the aisle. “Stop!” she yelled, and the entire room turned in her direction.

“Is that the _maid!?!?”_ Lady Cornelia’s mother screeched. “For God’s sake, someone get her out of here!”

“No,” Poe said, his eyes locked onto Rey’s, and it felt like the Earth had stopped spinning. “I have some things to say.”

Rey’s heart raced as he began striding towards her—this was not the Duke of Yavin.

This was Poe Dameron.

“He’s going off script,” one of the cameramen whispered to Leia. “We need to stop filming.”

“No,” Leia said, holding up her hand. “Let him keep going.”

“ _Rey_ ,” Poe said, whispering her name as if it was the most sacred of prayers. “I’ve been a fool. I’ve been stubborn and prideful and scared. I have…” he cradled Rey’s face in his hands, and she gasped, too stunned to believe any of this was real. “I have spent every day of the last five years pretending that I didn’t love you—but I did, Rey. I have loved you so painfully, so earnestly, so completely since the moment I laid eyes on you all those years ago. After last week I realized—I never want to live without you again, I, I, _can’t_ live without you ever again, my darling, I—”

“I missed you every day,” she whispered tearfully. “Every day.” Rey stared up at him, her heart bursting with so much happiness that she barely knew what to say.

And so she kissed him.

Rey pulled him towards her, clutching him in her arms with no reservations, no script, no pretense—it was a kiss that was theirs completely, a kiss that had no reason to end, a kiss that promised many, many, more to come. Poe ran his fingers through her hair as she melted into his arms, his hands clutching her waist and spinning her around in delight.

They were interrupted by a sudden round of applause.

“Oh,” Poe said. “Um, I, uh—”

“Yes, Dameron,” Leia snarked. “You do have an audience, and you did just waste a perfectly good bit of film.”

“Sorry, Ms. Organa,” Poe said, but he knew from her smile that she couldn’t have been more delighted.

“Let’s take a five minute break,” Leia said. “And then we’ll shoot the scene _correctly,_ this time, yes?”

Everyone broke into excited whispers and giggles, and Poe pulled Rey back into his arms again.

“You are…” Rey said, biting her lip in frustration. “You are _such_ an actor sometimes, you know that?”

Poe laughed. “After worrying about you all week I didn’t want to wait a minute more,” he said, brushing her hair behind her ear. “But I mean it. I love you, Rey. I’ve been…I’ve been so foolish about my feelings, and—”

“Me too,” Rey said. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for leaving you. Ever. I love you, so, so much, and having to see you here every day has just been so completely…”

“Intoxicating? Frustrating? Swoon-inducing?”

Rey punched his arm and he laughed. “It’s been the strangest mix of wonderful and terrible all at the same time, but now…but now I think it’ll be wonderful forever.”

“Me too,” Poe said, pressing his forehead against hers. “Me too.”

“You’re also damn lucky Leia didn’t fire you on the spot.”

“Hey,” Poe said. “If she did, we still have that back-up plan from all those years ago where we get married and open a mom and pop diner on Route 66.”

“Well given that she didn’t, I think we’ll have to ditch part of that plan,” Rey said, and Poe’s face lit up at her implication. They beamed at each other, oblivious to the stares of the rows of people in the room with them.

“I saw the note,” Rey said without thinking. “In your wallet.”

Poe looked bashful, his eyes turned to the floor. “It was the only thing I had left of you…” he said. “And I could never bring myself to throw it away. I wanted—I wanted to remember that I had to make you proud, if even you didn’t love me anymore.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, please,” Rey answered. “I always did. I used to get drunk and see every one of your films.” She laughed. “I sobbed through each one like a baby.”

“God,” Poe said, chuckling. “We sure could have spared ourselves a lot of tears.”

“Probably,” Rey said, resting her head on his shoulder. “But we got there in the end.”

“You got that right, sunshine,” Poe said, smiling at her like a fool. “Goodness, the last thing I want to do is film right now.”

“Well you do get to kiss me again.”

“True,” Poe said, kissing her hand. “I do.”

“I can’t wait,” Rey said, smiling as Poe pulled her flush against him, grinning as he traced his thumb along her hipbone. “ _Just wait until I get you alone,”_ he whispered, and she shivered in glorious anticipation.

“Places!” Leia yelled, and Rey reluctantly stepped out of Poe’s arms and went back to her spot among the pews. But it was okay—they had all the time in the world.

They ended up having to reshoot the beginning of the wedding, where the Duke looks irreparably heartbroken about the impending ceremony, four whole times:

—Poe couldn’t stop smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! I have finally released you all from your misery!!!


	13. Chapter 13

It’s all a bit of a maddening blur after that.

They rush home, Poe pressing fervent kisses into Rey’s neck as he fumbles to unlock the door, the two of them shedding clothes down the hallway until they reach the bedroom, where Rey sighs with delight as Poe presses her into the bed. That first time is frantic and desperate, both of them striving to make up for years of lost time, an intoxicating rush of sighs and moans and sweet nothings until they fall apart, giddy and exhausted.

The next weekend, they hardly leave the bed at all.

But it’s not just the sex, it’s all that comes in between—the shared dreams and little whispers, the memories pulled out of the ether, the plans made in solid stone—all these small ways they’ve changed and all the ways they’re just the same. There’s an energy behind all of their movements now that wasn’t there before—a determination to make things work, an assuredness that neither of them will ever stray again…and a gratitude that despite all odds, they’ve made it back together again.

It’s barely two weeks before Rey moves in.

They have a routine now, one of walking to work together in the morning and listening to radio dramas at night; one of making love the second they get home and of practicing new scripts with each other as they lie in bed afterwards; one of dancing all night Saturday and of waking up late to do the crossword together on Sunday.

People in Hollywood always seem to be wanting more, more, more.

Rey wakes up in the mornings to see the love of her life asleep beside her, and she smiles.

How could she ever want anything more than _this?_

***

**The New York Times: November 6, 1935**

**_SHEEV PALPATINE ARRESTED IN LONDON_ **

**_News broke today that Mr. Sheev Palpatine, the leader of the criminal organization known only as ‘the Sith’, was apprehended at his home in London last Monday. He is being held in Pentonville Prison without bail, where he is expected to serve a life sentence._ **

**_Authorities are only just beginning to unravel the extent of the Sith’s criminal activities, which were international and farther reaching in their scope than anyone could have imagined. Another Sith operative, Ben Solo, the son of Corellia Studios president Han Solo and director Leia Organa, was arrested earlier this year._ **

***

“Ready?” Poe said, squeezing Rey’s hand in the backseat of the car. From the window they could see the red carpet stretched out before them, the herds of photographers waiting on the sidelines. A massive poster for _I Will Not Reject My Love_ hung overhead. It’s a painted picture of Poe and Rey in period dress, modeled off of one of the photos Finn took, back in those days before they fell back together—those days that already felt like a lifetime ago.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Rey said, and with that Poe opened the door, taking her hand and helping her out of the car.

Poe is stunningly handsome in his tux, but Rey is breathtaking tonight in a way that is sure to go down in history. She’s wearing a sweeping midnight blue gown accented by jewels, and it looks as if the night sky itself is draped across her shoulders.

Poe takes her hand again as they walk down the carpet, stopping a few times to let the photographers get a few shots. They call out their names as they stand for pictures, a dozen chants of “Poe! Ms. Skywalker! Look over here!” falling through the air—and of course there’s one brave paparazzi who has the audacity to shout: “When are you going to buy that girl a ring, Dameron?”

He smiles quietly to himself. He’s already bought it, actually—but that’s his business.

They run into Finn as they approach the theater, and he’s looking as smug as ever, Jannah perched on his arm in a ruby dress and furs.

“Hey,” Poe teased. “Do you really think it’s wise to date the makeup artist _again?_ ”

Jannah rolled her eyes. “I told him the odds of two of us in a row being spies are fairly slim.”

“See!” Poe said. “That’s _exactly_ what a spy would say!” They all laugh, but there’s pain underneath it. Rose has become a bit of a joke between them all—it’s their way of processing what happened—but the wound is healing, nonetheless.

“Doesn’t look like they’re the only lovebirds around here,” Rey whispered, and Poe looked across the room to see Han and Leia huddled in the corner, whispering and laughing.

“What do you know,” Poe said. “I guess the Ben thing being resolved was the thing to do it.”

“When people are meant for each other they always find their way back somehow,” Rey mused. “Don’t you think?”

Poe grinned and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “Funny how that happens, huh?”

***

Rey is sitting with Poe in the front row of the theater, excitement running through her veins as the credits appear and their names dance across the screen. Movies are one thing when you’re shooting them, Rey’s discovered, but watching the final product is a different kind of magic altogether.

She gets caught up in the story as if she’s never heard it before, invested in Hannah and her passion for the Duke, watching as their attraction grows stronger; as their differences throw them apart and then finally back together. And then of course, there’s all the memories underneath the surface, the embraces and kisses between her and Poe where you can sense the tension and passion simmering underneath the surface, waiting to break free. Rey likes to think they’re both just talented actors, but it’s more than that—the reality of their feelings permeates through the film like magic, making it feel alive in a way that feels incredibly rare. What Leia’s done is extraordinary.

The Duke and Hannah share their last triumphant kiss; the only kiss featured in the film where the actors themselves are entirely certain of their feelings, and the joy of it radiates throughout the room. The music swells, and words **THE END** appear on screen in curlicue letters.

Rey leans her head on Poe’s shoulder, and he smiles at her adoringly. Because it’s not the end.

It’s only the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! A happy ending! There's only the epilogue left, which I'm very excited about: this epilogue came to me before the rest of the story did, so a lot of the writing sort of shaped itself around it. I'm very proud of it and excited to show you guys! <3


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwww did you guys....did you guys think the pain was over??? lololololololol

****

**1955**

“Come to bed,” Rey whispered, and she smiled as Poe tucked himself in beside her. He’s nearly completely gray these days, but he’s still the most handsome man in Hollywood. “It’s been a long day, you know…”

Poe wrapped his arms around his wife and sighed. “You can say that again,” he laughed. “There are only so many burgers one man can cook.”

Rey rolled her eyes. “And only so many times I can tell Finn’s kids to stop playing that silly King Midas game with our Academy Awards.”

They had spent the afternoon and evening hosting a rollicking cookout in the California sunshine, and everyone had been invited: Han and Leia (who, despite being in their eighties, still knew how to party), Finn and Jannah and their kids, and of course all of Shara’s friends. It was Shara’s celebration, anyhow—tomorrow she was leaving for college. Shara got her father’s dark curls and her mother’s headstrong determination, but she didn’t inherit a proclivity towards theater from either of them. Instead she was headed off to study physics, and they couldn’t be more proud of their brilliant daughter.

“The time went by so fast,” Rey said. “It feels like just yesterday that we got married.”

“I know,” Poe said, smiling at her. “But I’ve loved every second of it—I’ve loved _you_ every second of it.”

“Me too.”

A minute later, Poe sighed in frustration, remembering a piece of bad news he’d forgotten to share. “By the way, I checked in with Leia about _Difficult Man,_ and the news is not good.”

“What?”

“She can’t find a copy of it anywhere,” Poe said. “And I don’t think there were many copies around in the first place. She thinks the only existing one got destroyed in the big MGM fire.”

“Damn it,” Rey said, crossing her arms and sighing sadly. “I really wanted to see it.”

“Same here,” Poe said. “Can you imagine? Seeing us right at the very beginning, right when we met and fell in love—I’d give anything to see that play out before my eyes again.”

“At least we have the memories,” Rey said. “That’s something that can’t explode and catch fire…”

Poe turned toward her so they faced each other in the dark, warm under the covers. “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t think I could ever forget.”

Rey smiles at him and curls up in his arms. They fall asleep, holding each other tight in the dark.

Twenty years and a world war later, she still hasn’t gotten used to being this happy. Maybe she never will.

She can live with that.

**1995**

Ahsoka Tano usually gets the same question from people when she tells them she takes care of Poe Dameron at the nursing home. “He’s still alive?” they ask, and then they’ll look it up later, as if they don’t believe her. “What do you know!” they'll say. “Damn, I hope I get to live to be ninety-five.”

They ask her what he’s like, and she tells them. She tells them that he’s just like any other old man. He forgets where he is sometimes. She has to mush his melon with a fork before he can eat it, and he’s very fond of swing music—and by god, is he kind. So much kinder than anyone else at Takodana Assisted Living. He has a grateful look in his wrinkled brown eyes, always, as if he knows he got very lucky in this life and still can’t believe it. He always says please and thank you.

Ahsoka has seen some of his films. She’s never been much for old movies, but she’s occasionally come across his work on the classic movie channel late at night and always ends up hypnotized. It’s hard to believe sometimes that funny old Mr. Dameron was once this (and yes, Ahsoka can admit it) _hot_ movie star, a man with dashingly good looks and a suave mannerism that is all too rare in the men she ends up on dates with. But sometimes he’ll smile or get a certain twinkle in his eye and she’ll see it—it’s him, alright.

One day after work Ahsoka notices that they’re premiering a new film on the classic movie channel: 1925’s _Difficult Man_ , starring Poe Dameron and Rey Skywalker, previously thought to be lost forever until someone found a box of film reels in their attic a year ago. Ahsoka sets her VCR to record it, and then brings the tape into work with her the next day.

“Good morning, Ms. Tano,” Mr. Dameron says, weakly lifting a wrinkled hand to give her a polite wave. They’ve become quite good friends, her and Mr. Dameron. She treats him like a normal man as opposed to the desiccated remains of a cultural icon, and this has endeared her to him in a way that’s made some of the other nurses a bit jealous.

“Good morning, Mr. Dameron. There’s tomato soup for lunch today.”

He grumbles cantankerously. “You know my wife used to make tomato soup. She used to add this…”

Ahsoka fills out some forms while he rambles on. She’s learned that Mr. Dameron will take any and every opportunity to brag about his late wife, who passed away a few years back. His stories about her aren’t so much filled with grief as with awe, as if he still can’t believe he was married to Rey Skywalker herself. Ahsoka never got the chance to meet her, but she’s heard some stories from her coworkers. The two were inseparable while they shared an apartment here, going on long, waddling walks down the hallways together, holding hands and greeting all the other residents. They’re apparently still banned from playing Dolly Parton’s “Here You Come Again” at any function where Mr. Dameron is in attendance; it was his and Rey’s favorite song to dance to and the one thing that will make him break down into tears.

It’s sing-a-long Tuesday today, which Mr. Dameron loathes with a passion (Ahsoka does too, but as an employee she has to pretend otherwise) which means that after lunch Ahsoka will sit alone with Mr. Dameron in the common room, where they usually work on puzzles or watch television. If he’s especially lucid and she’s especially lucky, sometimes she’ll get to hear a really great story she knows a film historian would kill for. But she keeps mum. They’re friends, and he trusts her.

“Hey, Mr. Dameron,” Ahsoka says. “I taped a movie for you last night, if you’d like to see it.”

“Alright,” he says, waiting as Ahsoka wheels in the cart with the TV and VCR on it. “They don’t make films like they used to, you know. I didn’t like that last one you showed me. The one with the um…” he scratches his head. “The light swords. And the bear.”

“ _Star Wars?”_

“Yeah. That one.”

Ahsoka grins. “I have a feeling you’ll like this one.”

She pulls up a seat next to his wheelchair and presses play on the remote. There’s a few slides of text explaining how the film was lost; and eventually rediscovered and restored. Then a jaunty piano tune begins and the title _DIFFICULT MAN_ flashes up on screen.

Ahsoka turns to Mr. Dameron. He’s half-asleep and doesn’t really seem to be processing any of it.

A few minutes later, Ahsoka smiles as Poe appears onscreen. He’s charismatic and handsome as hell, his character playing a ball game with a big group of friends. She watches as he cheers after hitting a home run, and then later when the whole team spends a rowdy evening in a bar.

Mr. Dameron is staring blankly at the screen and doesn’t seem to recognize himself. Ahsoka smiles at him affectionately, trying to imagine what ninety-five years of life must feel like—it would feel like an eternity ago to him, she figures.

Then the scene changes, and a young woman appears, her eyes bright and her hair chopped short. She’s hurrying around a kitchen trying to get a meal on the table, an adorable smirk on her lips as she places strawberries around the edge of a cake.

Ahsoka looks over at Poe, and watches something shift behind his eyes.

“That’s my wife,” he whispers, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Just as Rey Skywalker is finished setting the table, Poe comes in, and not just Poe, but the entire baseball team, starving and rowdy and ready for supper. Her character should be furious with him, but he only has to give her a dazzling smile and she melts.

Mr. Dameron is transfixed as he watches his younger self charm Rey into his arms and kiss her on the cheek, gazing at her like he can hardly believe she’s real—and seventy years later, he’s still gazing at her in the exact same way, his eyes tearing up at the corners as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

Ahsoka has always underestimated silent films—always been critical of their jumpy motion, their melodramatics and lack of dialogue…but this? This is magic, watching these two together, and she can’t look away. They’re ghosts, eternally young and glamorous and full of hope. It’s a privilege to see this moment preserved in time, to see two people on the brink of realizing they’ve just met the love of their lives, balancing on the precipice of something incredible, sparks ready to set flame to what people these days often call one of the greatest romances of the twentieth century.

Mr. Dameron is still awestruck and smiling at the screen. “That’s my girl,” he whispers under his breath, trembling as he laughs through his tears. “It’s good to see you again, sunshine.”

Ahsoka squeezes his hand and he smiles. “Thank you, my dear,” he says, and turns back to the television.

Ahsoka goes to the back of the room to pretend to clean something while she watches—she’s beginning to feel like she’s intruding on something intimate and sacred. She lets Poe Dameron have this moment alone to remember his wife, to remember what it felt like to be young and deliriously in love, the entire world at your fingertips, your life only just beginning.

The scene changes and now they’re dancing: Poe Dameron and Rey Skywalker, spinning and laughing and already looking at each other like they’re each other’s sun and stars. The film flickers and glitches all over, the piano tinny and muffled in the background, but Ahsoka doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything so _alive—_ or any two people look more in love.

And then there’s a moment when Poe takes Rey’s hand and leads her across the room, their energy infectious as the other dancers part around them; as Poe twirls her around and around until she falls dizzy into his arms, gasping with happiness—the sort of happiness that can only come from realizing that there’s only one person’s name you ever want on your dance card again. And by some miracle, that moment is preserved, pressed like a flower into a book, their love blossoming in full color again and again, perennial and true.

The world is absolutely bloated with love stories—it could not possibly keep them all, and so we must live with the fact that one day our great loves will fall to dust; that those passions that once thrilled our beating hearts will expire with us—as not even the most potent of loves can outrun the slow degradation of time. But not them—never them. Because there’s always a cassette tape in New York, or a late night movie in London, or a holovid on a terraformed Venus. A lucky few live on; so that long after the rest of us are dead and gone, Poe Dameron will still be holding out his hand, asking Rey Skywalker to dance for the very first time.

—and she’ll be saying yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments and love throughout the course of this story! I had a blast writing it! :D


End file.
